An Ordinary Teacher at an Extraordinary School
by The Runes Master
Summary: What does life within the walls of Hogwarts Castle look like if you happen to be one of the staff?
1. September

**August 31, Saturday **

Well, isn't it just like a teacher to begin a diary late at night on August the thirty-first. Don't know why I'm doing it at all, to start with, only that my life seems to be getting more and more exciting every day. Maybe it will be fun to read all this in my old age. If I ever get there, that is. And of course since I was so taken with this lovely notebook as to buy it yesterday, while in fact it's completely unnecessary, I might as well fill it with something interesting.

But really, it does feel so weird being a teacher at Hogwarts. For some reason, it feels much stranger than being a teacher at Durmstrang. I didn't think it would, actually, after five years there, but it just feels weird. I suppose it's because I still feel like a student at Hogwarts and it's somehow, well, mind-boggling to know that I don't have to sleep in the dorm, wear black robes and address everyone as Sir or Professor. (I still have this impulse to jump up whenever older teachers enter the room!) Instead, others are likely to address me this way (Mr Filch does, for example. He's still here! Now he has a cat, called Mrs Norris. I've chatted to her a little, she's misanthropic but has a rather amusing dry sense of humour. I had a feeling that she liked me – maybe because I'm one of the few people here who can actually talk to her intelligently).

I've been given a nice spacious panelled room at the top of a tower, with a four-poster bed, a large bay window, a huge oak desk, a comfy armchair and a big fireplace, and also my own private kettle and a few packs of shortbread should I come over peckish. The classroom is directly beneath it and there's a narrow staircase leading there so that I can get down directly, without thronging along the common stairways. The window gives onto the Forest. There's also a large walk-in closet, more like a separate little room really, even with its own small window, with many pegs and shelves and all, where I've put all my outer garments and shoes. It's separated from the rest of the room by a sliding panel, so it's all nice and neat.

I've already made the room quite mine during the week that I've spent here after it was made ready for me. I'm actually writing this sitting in the armchair, the diary in my lap lit by the light of a tall elaborate candle-holder, with a cup of tea at my side on the tea-table and the fire crackling merrily in the grate. I do like it here. I got nearly all my things over from London and the room looks as if I've lived here for years.

Today's been a bit hectic, though. The usual late-August fuss with the timetables and things. Prof. McGonagall has spent about two weeks trying to arrange things so that everyone has a more or less manageable schedule, and still today, after she'd given out the timetables to us, people would come up to her and point out that they had two classes scheduled for the same time or too many classes, or too few. The poor witch is rushed off her feet. I haven't caused her much trouble, since I only have two groups to teach this term, but Prof. Babbling spent quite a long time raging about the stupid schedule she'd been set. I have a feeling that there are just too many students in the school, so that the workloads tend to be quite large and at the same time the number of tutorials one can give seems barely adequate. Ah well, nothing I can do about it.

Oh dear, I've just remembered! I quite forgot the gold! There isn't a Gringotts branch in Hogsmeade, I should have taken out some cash in London. All right then, I'll take the Floo home tomorrow and go to the bank, then Floo back. No! A better idea! I'll go home tonight, then nip around to the bank early in the morning and then, then I'll begin the term in style by taking the Hogwarts express!!! Yes, good thinking.

**September 1, Sunday **

Well, well, well. Here we are then, start of term. I'd quite forgotten the splendour of the feast here at Hogwarts, and was quite unprepared for it when I went down to the Great Hall (wearing my Doctor's mantle and all! Also had decided to turn my bandage black for the evening not to frighten people overmuch). So weird to be sitting at the top table. Had been no better on the Express, actually. And I think I gave a real fright to that girl – what was her name? Abbott, right. Hanna Abbott. Poor thing! She'd probably never seen anyone skin-change before. I should've gone round the corner, of course. (Will I be able to recall what I'm on about here? Maybe not. What happened was that when we arrived to Hogsmeade, I skin-changed on the platform to be able to fly to the school, see?) I suppose I was just so excited that I behaved like a teenager, showing off, basically. Thank heaven S doesn't know, he'd have most probably killed me for that! He already has, for having flown in the first place. But what choice did I have? If I'd gone with them in the carriages, I'd have had no time to change before the feast. (Yes, yes, I know, bad planning, should have thought about it from the very start.)

Arm's really hurting me, now, though, so he was right. I wonder when this bloody burn will heal? I mean it is unnatural for a burn to stay on for two months!

Had a staff meeting afterwards, but I was so tired I missed half of what was being said. Prof. Umbridge took the floor, mostly, going on about standards, again. S says these meetings are usually much shorter. He also says it's the first time in all the years he's been around when Dumbledore was interrupted at the feast. Actually he looked quite perturbed about the whole thing. I can't say I didn't notice the tension when Prof. Umbridge started talking. She hasn't impressed me as being a very nice person, as yet. We'll see. I think I'm probably wrong. I mustn't let my prejudice against the colour pink ruin first impressions for me. I was rather surprised when she said that school is all about exams, though. At least Dumbledore didn't look like he agreed with that!

Still can't decide whether I'm hurt or relieved about Dumbledore not having introduced me at the feast. Obviously he thought that since I'm only an Assistant Professor, only a couple of groups will actually be dealing with me and I'll be introduced to them by Prof. Babbling anyway, and there's no point in confusing everyone else. Ah well.

I feel a small familiar twinge of horror at the thought of meeting new children, as usual. Wonder how many more years I'll have to spend in the business to stop being nervous about it.

What else to put here before I forget? No, I'll do the story of my resignation afterwards - I'm too sleepy now. Anyways, time to go to bed. Early rise tomorrow. Holidays are over. Baah.

You are still a kid, mate.

**September 2, Monday**

Wow. Teaching can be fun! No, I knew it, of course, but man isn't it nice to have British kids in the class. I mean English-speaking kids. I can use words like "conversant" or "technicalities", and they understand me! Yay! No more need to stem the abundant flow of my refined vocabulary! I've met one group so far, the ones who are doing their OWLs this term, a motley collection from all Houses. Including the Abbott girl! I was surprised to see her, she hadn't given the impression of being extremely intellectual on the train. Well, maybe I underestimated her. We'll see.

So, they are:

Hannah Abbott (H at the end) - H

Hermione Granger (surprise, surprise! Well, she more or less told me she would be taking these classes back at Gr.P.) - G

Seamus Finnigan - G, with a terrific accent! I kept wanting to slip into North Yorkshire while addressing him. Gotta work on that!

Lavender Brown - G, sits together with Hannah. I think I've been through this before. OK, we'll see. Maybe they were both simply embarrassed.

Mandy Brocklehurst - R, nice brainy girl

Terry Boot - R, active but a bit unruly

Lisa Turpin - R, haven't figured her out yet

Kevin Entwhistle - R, looked a bit blank, maybe it's just summer inertia though

Draco Malfoy - S - haughty beyond description. Maybe he's just shy though. S's protege, apparently. Birds of a feather? I hope not!

Vincent Crabbe

Gregory Goyle - two identical Slytherins who apparently act as Malfoy's bodyguards. This seems to be their only reason for coming to this class in the first place. I don't think a single word I said actually penetrated their skulls. Well, as long as they don't interrupt classes.

Daphne Greengrass - S, bites her quill all the time, but otherwise seems quite nice

Pansy Parkinson - S, a bit burly for her name, very assertive

Theodore Nott - S, a very favourable impression, I think he stands a fair chance of becoming my favourite student.

I talked about Runes, made them recap on what they knew and - of course! - had to tell them about dwimmercraft, because they sort of noticed I wasn't using a wand. (Well, I can't switch into Modern Magic just like that!) They were interested, I think. We'll see how it goes. I've flicked through OWL tasks from some years back, and they are pretty difficult, and I've only got an hour and a half a week.

Glad Cousin Neville isn't taking Runes, by the way.

Anyway... oh, Severus's here.

Hmmmmm. He's just left, having told me a lot of interesting things. Said he wanted to get it off his chest since yesterday. Apparently what I took for innocent idle babble on behalf of Prof. Umbridge is in fact deadly serious and potentially destructive. Being a newcomer, I just didn't see the whole point of what she was saying. Hogwarts, apparently, is an almost independent institution. The Ministry gives us a general curriculum, but it's the Headmaster who decides on the details of the syllabus, such as what particular subjects will be taught and how many lessons and what extra subjects etc etc, and the extra gold is provided by the Board. However, they are now bent on controlling the school much more rigidly because of Dumbledore, who they think is trying to build up more power through recruiting students as his supporters over whom Fudge has no control blah blah blah (S actually used the word "army"), so the "openness, effectiveness and accountability" basically means "we're gonna follow your every step, so watch it." Like, for example, "practices that ought to be prohibited" may very well include just about everything that makes the school interesting and unique, and, of course, Dumbledore's management of it all. In two words: Ministry interference. And that, knowing the Ministry, can only be for the worse. S is livid. I don't really care since I'll be largely following the OWL preparation programme anyway, and the OWLs are set by the Ministry, so I'm more or less on the safe side there, but I do hope it doesn't go beyond just control. I mean Hogwarts has always had this anarchistic strain in it, that's what makes it so attractive and influential - I think.

**September 3, Tuesday**

Full moon

Everyone's off to work, and I'm sitting up here and writing a diary. Great feeling! My next lesson is on Thursday – the other group – and Prof. Babbling is taking all the rest. She said maybe she'll allot more to me in time, but not just yet. So, instead of teaching, I'm going for a walk around the castle.

Later: Brrr, glad I'm back at my fire. It's cold and damp out there! The walk's been very weird. Everything is incredibly familiar and at the same time completely new. I felt that especially clearly when I passed Prof. Grubbly-Plank teaching some students their Care of Magical Creatures. I felt I'd gone back in time, and wondered fleetingly why I wasn't there among them, studying.

The grounds look very much the same, the Lake, the Willow, the Forest. The castle itself looks the same, feels the same, but there are many portraits that weren't there, half the staircases lead to different places (as expected), and I do get a distinct feeling that a corridor has actually vanished, while a whole wing has appeared. Can this be true? I searched for that passage specifically – the one where I first summoned the Latro, I remember it well – and it wasn't where it used to be, there's a tapestry there now and just solid wall behind it. I also remember that there was a stretch of blank wall just to the right of the common room entrance, which for some reason never had a picture or anything, so we all thought it was special and there were all sorts of home-spun legends about it, and now there's an archway there and a short corridor with a few doors and a staircase leading both up and down. I walked all over the castle before lunch, then walked the grounds. At lunch, I mentioned flying over the Forest, but S gave me such a withering glance I thought better of it. Maybe later.

I remember when S first took me to the Slytherin common room during Easter hols. I wonder why it's generally not allowed for students to visit their friends from other Houses? (Actually, come to think of it, having close friends in other houses is sort of discouraged.) It actually helps you to understand people better, seeing them in their own environment. S fitted in so well with the dungeon and all the green. He definitely looked out of place in our common room when I invited him over the next day. I wonder if anything's actually changed within the Tower? Being a teacher I'm just as cut off from fellow Ravenclaws as if I were a Slytherin myself. I could always ask Prof. Flitwick for the password, of course, but what would it look like if I climbed up there and just stood about smiling like a moron, with all the students around? Heigh-ho. I suddenly understood that I am an alien here now, a completely different person from the boy who used to snuggle up there with a book in the window-seat.

But I do wonder if the runes I carved on it back in '76 are still there...

**September 4, Wednesday**

Good thing I'm free today: I went to bed straight after breakfast and slept for about four hours, so now I'm quite refreshed. Now am off for more wanderings around.

I wish I could fly properly. There's been no rain today, and I was very sorry I couldn't fly over the Forest. I'm still wary about venturing there on foot, I think some air reconnaissance wouldn't go amiss.

**September 5, Thursday**

Met my other group – beginners, these, on Thursdays. Slytherins. Put down the list in my teaching notebook. I was a little anxious, but they turned out to be so small and young and ignorant of the subject that I'm feeling somewhat easier now. And it was the first lesson too, so it was more like a lecture, I mainly just talked about what Runes are and what you can do with them etc etc. Real work will begin when we learn them all and get down to using them!

So it's Mondays and Thursdays. Not bad!

Schedule this term:

OWL group: Sept. 9, 16, 23, 30; Oct 7, 14, 21, 28; Nov 4, 11, 18, 25; Dec 2, 9, 16 at 1:10 PM

Beginners: Sept 12, 19, 26; Oct 3, 10, 17, 31; Nov 7, 14, 21, 28; Dec 5, 12, 19 at 10:40 AM

I'm writing this in the staff room. It's a new experience – or, rather, a half-forgotten one, since the Senior Common Room at Durmstrang was a bit different, more of a reading hall, and the closest feeling to sitting here is actually being in my own Ravenclaw common room here at Hogwarts all those years ago. Looks a bit like it, too: all those mismatched armchairs, numerous bookshelves, cupboards and desks. What makes it agreeably different is the presence of a stock of different teas and a bright copper kettle which is always full and hot. It is nice to have a quick cuppa between classes to soften one's vocal cords. Not that I need that much, with my small number of classes, but still. It's also nice to sit here marking, I expect, not holed up on your own, but among your peers, able to join in the conversation every now and then or share a joke or something. I fully expect to spend a lot of time here in the future.

Prof. Babbling allowed me to call her Bathsheba.

A huge plus: looks like they have a much more relaxed attitude to clothes here at Hogwarts. I don't actually have to wear a teacher's mantle, or indeed robes at all. (Esp. as am only Assistant.) Dumbledore told me this himself yesterday evening. At Durmstrang, they liked things to be neat and disciplined, so I had to wear a mantle during the term, whenever I was out of my chambers, a rather grand affair of dark blue velvet with fur trimmings and two silver stripes on the hood (dark blue indicated English, and the silver was for being a Doctor – people with no title had no stripes, and the Head and his two deputies had golden ones, three and two each respectively. I must say, by the way, that colour-coding the subjects was a really good idea, of great use to a newcomer), and even though formally I was allowed to wear whatever I wanted underneath it, anything but black and brown looked silly, jeans and jumpers were definitely not on, so I mainly wore the dark leather and suede bits of my warlock clothes underneath. Here, though, it seems that the rigid dress code applies to students only. We teachers are free in our choice of dress. (Free as anything: Prof. Umbridge wears an Alice band!) I'm going to make full use of this. OK, maybe I won't shock them by wearing Muggle tee-shirts all the time, but I'm not wearing robes if I can help it. I haven't worn robes for seventeen years, and I'm not starting again now, even though everyone thinks I should and Aunties keep telling me how well I look in them. I so enjoyed abandoning them after graduation!

I've suddenly developed a vicious throat-ache, after today's lesson, apparently. Am setting off to the Hospital Wing to ask Madam Pomfrey for some remedy. (I'm telling you nothing's changed. Even Madam Pomfrey's still here!)

**September 6, Friday**

Looks like I've been missing out on a lot of what's been going on in the community. That's what comes out of not reading the stupid newspapers. There's always a fresh issue of the Prophet on the table in the staff room, and man, do I learn new things from it every day! I honestly can't understand how anyone could be so dimwitted as to believe what it says. Also a pleasure to watch S: he can't help feeling happy every time his behated Harry Potter is mentioned as an attention-seeking liar, but as a member of the Order he knows that they are not really lies (and I mean he of all people would know about whether or not the Dark Lord has really returned wouldn't he?!), so every time I pick up the Prophet he haughtily says something along the lines of "Why do you keep reading this drivel", and then picks it up after I'm finished to look for anti-Potter articles. What a git.

Hmm, look. I wrote "the Dark Lord". Sev.'s influence obviously, but really, how should I call him? Dumbledore says "use his real name", and of course You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named are just plain stupid and cowardly. But Voldemort isn't his real name is it? It's a name he invented for himself to feel more important and scary. His real name's T. M. Riddle, but if I used that, people would probably not understand who I'm on about. I'll have to think about it.

Throat's much better.

**September 7, Saturday**

Bloody hell! Sturgis Podmore got himself arrested at the Ministry and sent to Azkaban for six months!!! And not only just arrested: he was trying to get through a secret door!

Later: Conferred briefly with McG, S and Flitwick. (Flitwick isn't a member of the Order, strictly speaking, but he's one of our staunch supporters, of course. All of the staff are. Well, I say all, with the single obvious exception of course.) McG had spoken to Dumbledore beforehand. He'd been making enquiries, and the horrible thing is that Podmore was trying to break through The Door, the one that we've been guarding, the one that the Prophecy is behind. D thinks he must have been Imperiused to do it. This is dreadful! That means that there are D.E.s in the very bowels of the Ministry! (Among the Unspeakables?! Or in the Wizengamot?! Gaah!) We just hope he doesn't break down and tell all there is to tell after his stint at Azkaban. D told everyone out there to lie low for a while, and wait for developments. The question is, why did they try to make Podmore take the Pr. if only the people it was made about can touch it? Looks like Lord V isn't aware of that. S was asked to find out.

I wonder what's the secret connection between S and the Prophecy, by the way. Every time anyone mentions it to him, I get a small pang of pain, which means it touches a very sore spot. What can it be? I wish he'd tell me. No point in asking directly, of course.

Right, I see I promised to record the glorious story of my resignation here a week ago, and never got around to it. OK, so here goes.

Where to begin? Probably with the time when I first realised I'd been cut off the Floo network in late June. They sent in a letter, something like "maintenance problems, please bear with us". I bore with them. And then Severus wrote.

It was evening, July 7th, about six o'clock Durmstrang time, when he wrote (using the two-way notebook) and then Dumbledore took over, telling me where the HQ was to be found. I knew I couldn't stay at Durmstrang, because after Karkaroff's disappearance it actually became quite uncomfortable. They knew the Dark Lord was back immediately. Don't know how, maybe there were more Death Eaters among them, maybe they had some other means of communication, but anyway during the time that passed between his reappearance on June 25th and this message, things had taken a definite turn for the worse. Even I could see it. Karkaroff at least had kept some kind of pretence about "studying the Dark Arts for the sake of pure knowledge", but Peter Schwartz the (Deputy) Headmaster would have nothing of that. He was actually hinting transparently at training the students to do the Dark Arts at the last staff meeting. It was then that I first thought about getting the hell out of there, so Sev.'s message was more than welcome. If I was needed back home, I was going.

Now that I look back on it, things look much more logical. Of course I was cut off from the Floo: the Ministry started rooting out prospective Dumbledore supporters, hindering them in any way they could. I wonder if there's a special division that keeps tabs on all of us, like who's friends with who.

So anyway: the moment Sev. over and outed, I took up the quill again and wrote my resignation letter, and went over to Schw's office. He was very civil at first – he had to be, nothing in my contract prevented me from resigning – but I could see clearly that he wasn't too keen on letting me go, which surprised me: surely a replacement would be pretty easy to find in the two remaining summer months? They had given me about three weeks' notice when I had been appointed. I said that, he answered that they were more than content with me, I said thanks, I'm very flattered, but what if I had to leave? He asked why, I said family problems. That was a mistake, of course. He turned nasty right away. "But surely you don't have a family, Dr Heald?" I've always known I'm a pathetic liar, and how could I've known the nosy git had read my file already? He'd only been Headmaster for a week officially! I understood I was trapped, cos you can't just say, oh, sorry, I meant scholarly affairs, so I remained stupidly silent while he produced a letter with a Ministry seal on it.

'Furthermore, I've received a letter from your Ministry last night,' he went on, 'you may want to take a look—'

I don't remember the exact wording, and of course I had no opportunity to copy it, but the gist of the letter, signed by one Percy Ignatius Weasley, Assistant to the Minister (International Magical Co-operation), was that the Durmstrang Institute for Magical Study was entitled to keep me on under all circumstances, and indeed use any method of persuasion should I want to leave (all in the name of international co-operation, of course). My head reeled slightly when I read that. I could see that it was genuine. I could see that my own bloody Ministry was entitling someone to use force against me if need be. I got angry.

'I'm going anyway,' I said. 'I'm sorry, but I just can't stay, magical co-operation or no magical co-operation.'

'Well,' he said, 'then I'll have to use some of the methods of persuasion that they mention.'

I'd like to see you try, I thought. 'For example?' I said.

'For example this,' he said and made a very deft movement with his wand.

Next second I was lying on the floor with half my head blasted off, or so I felt. He remained seated in his armchair.

'Have I been persuasive enough?' he asked.

I was thinking rapidly. There was no way out of this.

'Not really,' I said and hit him back, summoning my staff as he fell off his chair.

For the next several minutes we just fought, and finally I had him cornered, with the end of the staff digging into his chest.

'Will you let me go now?' I asked.

'Not really,' he said and suddenly threw a snake at me. It twisted around my right wrist, tearing off the skin, scorching it, it felt like it was made of white-hot barbed wire. I dropped the staff and started tearing the snake off, because it felt like it would burn my arm to the bone if I left it there. I dimly registered a look of surprise on Sch's face and wondered fleetingly why he wasn't pressing his advantage home, but then the snake finally came off, I threw it down and stamped on it, and he was still just staring at me. By that time, I was beside myself, so when he started to raise his wand again I bound him with Fenrir's chain and took his voice away – I think I was so angry I was using English not Norse, and it still worked – then took the wand out of his hand and snapped it in two, flung open the window and threw the bits into the lake. Then picked up the staff, turned on my heel and left.

I think he was expecting another reaction. Maybe the snake was supposed to bite me and couldn't, anyway something went wrong, as usual with Modern spells used against dwimmercraft defences, and that apparently threw him off-balance. I wonder why his first curse worked though. (Oh, and it's the burn from the snake that makes me wear the bandage. Hurts a little, esp after I strain the arm, and effectively prevents me from flying far, but I suppose it could be worse, really. At least I have no trouble writing.)

I ran to my chamber, washed the blood off my face and wrapped my wrist in a towel. I knew I had a few hours before he'd come round and be able to call for help, and by that time, I had to be thoroughly gone, preferably from the country. I skidbladnir-ed all the books and clothes, stuffed them in my backpack and just ran for it.

As I ran, thanking heaven that at this time, with the holidays on, the castle was practically deserted, I was thinking frantically what to do next. The thing is, at that time, I had no idea where I was. They made a point of me always travelling by Floo between Durmstrang and London, so I didn't even know for sure which part of Europe I was in. (I mean I had thought about it and had formulated a fairly accurate, as it turned out later, ballpark position, but it still covered several hundred square miles of Central Europe.) And they forbid me to skin-change while there, so I didn't get any bird's-eye views. But the Floo was out even if I used some other fireplace in the castle – if the letter from the Ministry was genuine, and I had no doubt that it was, they'd be out to get me, so the network was probably watched closely just in case. I could not Apparate either, because that leaves traces too and your route is pretty easy to find out, and I was meaning to disappear very thoroughly. Flying was out of question, not with the state my arm was in. Stealing a broom was not a very wise thing to do, what with knowing next to nothing about the surrounding terrain and having no idea of the distances involved. So only one thing remained. I'd have to Muggle it.

I crossed the bridge to the mainland, turned back and cast a final look at Castle Durmstrang. As usual when you walk out, it looked like an imposing ruin, with a single feeble light in the window behind which, I knew, Schwartz was sitting bound and gagged. I turned my back on it and walked quickly up the hill.

I'd never been outside the valley, it was part of my contract, and even though my forehead was stinging badly where I got hit, and the right arm was just murdering me, I couldn't but enjoy the spectacular views. When I got to the top of the ridge and looked back for the final time, I appreciated just how beautiful it was – the polished lake, the castle, the forest and the meadows. Who needs Dark Arts in a place like this?

I started downhill, and in about half an hour a village hove into view. I hadn't known there was one. I stopped in my tracks, tense. Then I saw cars. They were Muggles! I almost laughed out loud with relief.

I went down the street, looking fondly at the cars and the electric lamps. For some reason, I was feeling very secure all of a sudden. The few people I met didn't give me a second glance, and why would they? I was of course wearing Muggle clothes, because even at Durmstrang they didn't mind me doing that in a "non-teaching situation", and my maimed arm was out of sight underneath my jacket. The signs were all in German, but then I'd already got that far in my own deductions as well. What part of the German-speaking world though? The three cars that were parked along the street all had different number plates, and anyway I'm not such an expert in Muggle affairs as to tell which is which.

Looking for information, I stopped at the post office. The lady there was very nice, she gave me a little map of the surroundings (the village and the lake, with all the picturesque cross-country walks marked) when I said that I was a tourist who'd lost his way in the mountains. She looked horrified when I said I'd spent the night in the ruin on the lake, said it was very dangerous, and even though she didn't believe in such nonsense herself there was definitely something to the old rumour that the ruin was haunted. When she saw my wrist accidentally, she'd hear of nothing else until she had taken me round the corner to the chemist's, and between them, the two ladies had my wounds cleaned and bandaged in no time. I was thinking of the best way to ask them where I was without looking completely barking, and so asked them what the nearest big city that I could get to was. Salzburg, they said.

Austria.

I slipped off to the loo and turned some of the gold I had on me into local currency, remembering the Modern spell. The amount surprised me. I got enough to pay for the bandages and the fare on the coach that was soon taking me to Salzburg. It was the last coach that day, so I was lucky again.

Once in Salzburg, I started thinking what to do next. Four hours had passed since my skirmish with Schwartz, and I was pretty positive that either the spell had worm off by then or he'd have found a way to get help. I needed to get home, and I also needed to confuse any pursuers. I went to the railway station and bought a ticket to Vienna. The train was only due the next morning though, so I loafed about the town all night. It was incredibly beautiful. It was a full moon night, so sleeping was out of question anyway, and I really enjoyed Salzburg. In the morning, I collected my bag from the luggage room, and soon the train was speeding towards the capital. I went to the airport first and looked up the nearest flight to London, it was to go rather late in the evening, so I spent another day sightseeing. What a beautiful city, sir! While having schnitzel, coffee (pronounced kaffE) and some apple strudel in a cafe (I decided to go completely Viennese for the afternoon), I idly scanned the map the post office lady had given me and discovered with great surprise and satisfaction (Schadenfreude, that is) that the ruin that Durmstrang is posing as was clearly marked there as a "Sehenswurdigkeit". Unplottable! Ha! I've always said that we underestimate Muggle technology.

The plane was late, so I spent three uncomfortable hours at the airport. Perversely enough, while I walked the streets, I felt free and secure – as long as I was on the move. Having to sit in the same chair for three hours, I felt rather more vulnerable and conspicuous. Finally, at about half past two in the morning, I took my place at the very tail of the plane (cheapest ticket) and watched Vienna slide down underneath in a web of bright lights. Two hours later, slightly sick, I was at Heathrow, and in another two hours and a bit (it took me a whole hour to work out where to go to get on the Tube at Heathrow!) I was at King's Cross, at a complete loss what to do, since I hadn't a faintest idea where Grimmauld Place was. S had mentioned that it was "somewhere near King's Cross" (the real Northener that he is, he doesn't know London too well). The first thought, obviously, was to write to S and ask him more precisely, but it was half past five in the morning. I got off the Tube and stood there, looking at the facade of the station. Going home to Gillingham St was not a really good idea if the Ministry was after me. Where do I go from here? I hated to loiter about, but it was cold and dreary outside, so I went inside the station and wandered about, stopping to buy a hot dog from a sleepy-looking vendor and even trying to kip a little in an incredibly hard and uncomfortable seat with no success. Then I mustered up my courage and went back out into the street, lugging my backpack and fostering an incipient dull headache. So? Where's the bloody Grim Old Place? Then I had a bright idea: I went to the nearest bus stop and copied down the map of the area. I knew that Gr. P. would not be marked – as, indeed, was the case – but I was not to be defeated. I decided to walk round the whole area and look for it! That I did, marking off the streets I'd done with a pencil. It started raining heavily all of a sudden, and by the time I found the HQ – amazingly enough, after only forty minutes (I'd gone in the wrong direction first, of course)– I was drenched to the skin and numb with cold. Thankfully, Molly Weasley was there, with a cup of tea to save me.

The interesting thing happened when I actually arrived there: the HQ is unplottable, of course, and all those things, so when you come to Grimmauld Place you don't see it. That baffled me: here's No. 11, and here's No. 13! I started doubting my own sanity, and – since the address was passed on to me by Dumbledore by means of the two-way notebook, and this conversation had been erased when I'd closed it – I couldn't look it up, and they had told me not to commit the address to parchment. So I just stood there looking stupidly between the Nos. 11 and 13, recalling the phrase: "The HQ of the Order of the Phoenix is to be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place." As soon as I arrived to the word "twelve", the houses moved aside and there was No. 12, emerging between them like a balloon being rapidly inflated. Astonishingly, I remembered not to use the knocker; instead, I used the Order technology of sending messages by Patronuses for the first time. It was a little silly, admittedly, sending a Patronus to get the message delivered to someone who was a few yards away, but later they taught me the spells that open the door and I didn't have to resort to this method any more. Molly actually praised me for my resourcefulness: she said that most newcomers knock on the door and wake the portrait in the hall, so that it starts screaming blue murder and the whole place is plunged into chaos for a while.

Blimey, it's half past two!

**September 8, Sunday**

Going on from where I left off yesterday: during my first meeting with the other members of the Order, I discovered that the letter about me sent in to Durmstrang was in fact genuine. I caused Molly no end of pain and embarrassment because I was dim enough not to realise that the Percy Ignatius was a relative (he turned out to be her son. One of her sons, actually.) Anyway, Kingsley Shacklebolt, who's leading the three-year-long hunt after Sirius Black (in the wrong direction), decided I would be better off I underwent a more or less formal "clearing", so the next day I went to Diagon Alley and allowed myself to be arrested by another Order member, Nymphadora Tonks. She took me to the Aurors' office at the Ministry and interrogated me. I denied all accusations squarely and said (in accordance with what Kingsley had said I should stick to, to sound more plausible) that I was sure the letter was a sham and therefore did not think for a second that I was acting against Ministry orders. They were in a tight spot there, definitely, because obviously I hadn't actually done anything to warrant such mass-murderer-on-the-loose treatment, so it would be better for their own image to say that the letter had been a mistake/forgery/whatever. At the same time, if that be so, what are you doing interrogating me? That was the line I took, and Tonks had to let me go after about twenty minutes. The poor girl was so frightened by my demeanour (I tried to be as rude and haughty as possible, for the benefit of all the other Aurors) that she was shooting me apprehensive looks even as we were sitting down to the same dinner at HQ that very evening. Took me some time to convince her I'm not really all that horrible. I liked her, in fact. Maybe even more than I should have.

I also got an (initially) very flattering explanation of why I actually had been treated that way. Kingsley and Tonks agree that the reason for that is dwimmercraft. Apparently I'm supposed to be a rather powerful wizard, whose presence might strengthen the pro-Dumbledore coalition considerably, so the Ministry tried to prevent me from joining. I said modestly I wasn't such a powerful wizard; they then dampened my spirits somewhat by saying, Yes, we know, but Fudge is well-nigh paranoid by this stage, and sees anyone who's in league with D and even marginally unusual as a mortal threat.

Tonks insists on being called by her last name, because she feels that Nymphadora is too much of a mouthful. I can't say that I disagree.

Gr.P. is a rather nasty place. I was very glad I had a flat in Gillingham St and didn't have to stay there all the time. Incredibly gloomy. I was most surprised to learn that it belonged to Sirius Black: I remembered him as a very boisterous and cheerful character (about four hundred times too much so, actually), and it was hard to imagine him growing up there. The screaming portrait in the hall turned out to be a likeness of his mother: she doesn't say anything much to anyone apart from "scum", "filth", "blood-traitor" and "Muggle-lover". And, to add to its overall sinister character, it's been standing abandoned for about fifteen years, and is infested with all sorts of nastiness, mould, poisonous lichen and a deranged smelly house-elf who's spent all these years taking orders from the "sweet mistress".

The house-elf was the cause of my second fight with Black. The first took place virtually twenty minutes after my arrival, when I was reviving myself with a cup of Molly's tea. He came into the kitchen and, once I reminded him who I was, he grinned hugely, strode forward and shook my hand vigorously. I was quite surprised to receive such a warm welcome. Obviously it was too good to last: he said, "I thought you became a Death Eater, together with..." and silently supplied the name with a vague wave of his hand and a grimace. "Glad you're on our side." "He's on our side as well, isn't he?" I said, the joy of seeing an old enemy who's now a friend subsiding somewhat. He looked at me hard: "You're not still keeping in touch, are you?" The expression on his face was now quite insufferable. "We are," I said coldly. "Why would anyone want to keep in touch with that slimy git?" he demanded. I felt I was growing angry. "Does the word friendship mean anything to you, Sirius?" I asked. He was now his old arrogant self. "It does, only you should have been wiser in your choice of friends," he shot at me. The answer came out of my mouth almost before I felt I could formulate a coherent rejoinder: I surprised myself by retorting: "Fine words indeed... from a man who befriended Peter Pettigrew." He looked at me again, hard, and said: "I don't know what Dumbledore is doing inviting the likes of you into the Order," and left the room abruptly.

The second fight concerned Kreacher the house-elf. I was outraged when I learned his name: what sort of name is "Creature", especially for a servant, especially for a non-human servant?! I mentioned this when Black was around. He hates the elf (together with the house, as it turned out), and treats him abominably. The elf is a nasty piece of work, but still. (Calls all the Order members blood-traitors, or else Mudbloods.) So my remark naturally led to an argument. That was another reason I was so glad to go home after being 'cleared': Black is always at home, since he's a wanted criminal and he's not allowed to venture out of doors (he did once, in his dog form, to see the children off to school – and was spotted by Lucius Malfoy at King's Cross! Worse luck), and that keeps him incredibly grumpy and rude. I preferred not to talk to him: every conversation turned into a fight, however hard I tried to remain reasonable. He wasn't happy having me around, either. He brought up incredible things during the arguments to insult me, like, for example, during this one about Kreacher, when he referred to my not-too-upper-class parentage as a reason for my ignorance of the house-elves' ways. I couldn't believe it: an Order member, accusing another one of not being pureblood enough! Everyone present was shocked, and he even had the grace to mumble something like "I didn't mean it that way", but it just shows you: anything goes in fights with me.

I should probably put down for the record that I did tell him that the Healds are known from the Middle Ages and the Whites are not only a very ancient family but also – unfortunately – relatives of the Blacks.

Also for the record: I've been to Hogsmeade today for the first time this year. It hasn't changed much. Madam Rosmerta's still there – she's older, but looks almost the same. Her Butterbeer is as great as ever. The amazing thing is that she recognised me – with a little prompt, of course, once I told her I usually appeared in her establishment with Severus. The weather's been great.

**September 9, Monday**

This is unbelievable!!!

**MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM**

**DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR**

In a surprise move last night the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time," said junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. "He is now responding to concerns voiced by anxious parents, who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve of."

This is not the first time in recent weeks that the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, has used new laws to effect improvements at the wizarding school. As recently as 30th August, Educational Decree Number Twenty-two was passed, to ensure that, in the event of the current Headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person. "That's how Dolores Umbridge came to be appointed to the teaching staff at Hogwarts," said Weasley last night. "Dumbledore couldn't find anyone so the Minister put in Umbridge, and of course, she's been an immediate success, totally revolutionising the teaching of Defence Against the Dark Arts and providing the Minister with on-the-ground feedback about what's really happening at Hogwarts."

It is this last function that the Ministry has now formalised with the passing of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, which creates the new position of Hogwarts High Inquisitor.

"This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the falling standards at Hogwarts," said Weasley. "The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch. Professor Umbridge has been offered this position in addition to her own teaching post and we are delighted to say that she has accepted."

The Ministry's new moves have received enthusiastic support from parents of students at Hogwarts.

"I feel much easier in my mind now that I know Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation," said Mr Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion last night. "Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years and are glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation."

Among those eccentric decisions are undoubtedly the controversial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the employment of werewolf Remus Lupin, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid and delusional ex-Auror, "Mad-Eye" Moody.

Rumours abound, of course, that Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Hogwarts.

"I think the appointment of the Inquisitor is a first step towards ensuring that Hogwarts has a headmaster in whom we can all repose our confidence," said a Ministry insider last night.

Wizengamot elders Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden have resigned in protest at the introduction of the post of Inquisitor to Hogwarts.

"Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge's office," said Madam Marchbanks. "This is a further, disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore."

_(For a full account of Madam Marchbanks's alleged links to subversive goblin groups, turn to page seventeen.)_

No comment. At all.

This Percy character again, mind you.

And she didn't even tell us beforehand!

Lunchtime: Ah. Now she has. Just had an extra staff meeting. Taking fifteen minutes off our lawful eating time, and simpering as ever, with everyone watching her incredulously, she informed us about what everyone's already read in the paper. And she didn't give any dates. "The inspection will begin forthwith, some of the colleagues have already received my notes." So you'll be telling me to expect you twenty minutes before the class, will you? Not as if I cared – it's just somehow unpleasant. I mean, we are certified and experienced teachers, while she's just a bloody Ministry bureaucrat who's never taught anything before!

How's she gonna inspect us? I mean OK, Divination's just a sham, Charms or Transfiguration are at least practical, so she can actually judge whether or not the teachers have managed to really teach the kids anything. But what about me and Bathsheba? Does she know Runes? Or does she know Arithmancy? Or, I don't know, Care of Magical Creatures? I mean I wouldn't know if someone was giving wrong instructions about how to take care of a sphinx or something. Is she such a great authority on everything?

Talked to S about it, and he thinks it's all just a pretext. He thinks she's not at all concerned with academic standards and all those wonderful words that she said, and that whatever we do, even we follow the Ministry guidelines to the last letter, she'll still find faults, which, when amassed in a large enough quantity, will constitute a reason for deposing Dumbledore, if not closing down the school. I wonder what the Board thinks about this, I mean they give the cash, they must have a say? Or has Lucius Malfoy blackmailed them all into silence? Come to think of it, if they are really so bent on closing the school, and of course it's a very welcome development for the enemy, then he might even be Imperiusing them. What a ghastly thought.

By the way, I think I should record what I did for the Order in the summer, just in case someone uses the Oblivion charm against me. Mainly, after I was cleared, I hung around the International Relations Dept, finding out the current climate and trying to influence the people who work there, as well as reforging the ties with all the foreign wizards I knew from Uppsala and Kitezh, and of course my numerous relatives, trying to bring them in too (The Kreuzers were all right; the Coopers apparently don't care much about what's happening over here, they think they're safe in Noo Jersey. (Ha! As if.) The Grants I'm still working on. Also, wrote to Aunt Vivienne and the Slaters, but there's been no reply yet. And I'm too scared of Uncle Malvolio to write to Auntie Flo, and somehow I doubt he's not a D.E. himself. Holy Grail, it's a hard life having six aunts!). There was also some guard duty: at the Ministry, and I also guarded the other weapon, the famous Harry Potter (Dumbledore thought I was really well suited for the job, since, unlike the other Order members, I didn't have to use the Invisibility Cloak, of which there are only two. One, now, actually, since Stugris Podmore had one on when he was arrested, the stupid prat.) That was boring, cos nothing ever happened – he did manage to get attacked by Dementors, but that was while another wizard, Mundungus Fletcher (a crook if I ever saw one!), was on duty. I just perched roasting slowly on his Muggle relatives' TV aerial for a few days. It's been an unspeakably hot summer in the south-east, and sitting on the roof in the midday sun covered in black feathers was no joke, I can tell you!

**September 10, Tuesday**

Noooooo! Not this! Bathsheba's just revealed that we are NOT following any Ministry-approved standard! The guidelines she gave me are all her own invention, and nobody's taken an OWL in Runes for the last three years! The exam papers I've been looking through were in fact some ten years old, since which time she's changed the contents of the course anyway. And the most tragic thing is that she's working on the basis of her own notes etc, and so when Umbridge comes to inspect Runes we don't even have a more or less decently complete-looking programme to show her! So what it amounts to is that I must sit down and produce an OWL-preparation programme AND a programme for beginners, preferably before the end of the week! She said thank heaven that at least nobody's taking NEWTs in Runes this year. Well, that's a relief!

**September 11, Wednesday**

Writing programmes.

**September 12, Thursday**

Writing programmes.

**September 13, Friday**

AAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!

**September 14, Saturday**

Spent the whole day in the company of Madam Pince again. Nice to have the country's largest library on magic at one's disposal! Just like the old days. I go there when I don't have classes. Sadly, I'm forced to waste most of the time I spend among all those tantalisingly fascinating books, trying to piece together a presentable programme from all the various textbooks and anthologies. I wonder what the students think, they probably don't often see a teacher swotting in the library every day! Moreover, I nicked all the Rune-related books, and they can't do the homework I set them, ha ha. No, of course they can. I do admit I turn to other things when I get bored, getting on bit by bit with my research for the Rune dictionary. I mean programmes are all very well, but I have to report to Ruthwell every so often, and with all my running round Europe in summer and the injury and the Order I haven't done much of what was expected of me.

U hasn't been to any Runes classes yet, thank heaven.

**September 15, Sunday **

Just had the fright of my life. I completely forgot about the existence of Moaning Myrtle. I was having a bath like a decent person, closed my eyes for a minute and when I opened them again there was this transparent girl sitting on the tap and watching me with interest! I nearly drowned.

We chatted a little – after I'd scrambled out of the bath and wrapped myself securely in a towel, having asked her not to look, with which request I'm not at all certain that she complied – and she turned out to be a little better than I remembered. I only actually came into contact with her once before, when she haunted the boys' loo on the seventh floor for some reason. Not altogether a pleasant memory.

**September 16, Monday**

I've finally located my sense of something lacking at Hogwarts. I understood what I'd been missing today during dinner. I was scanning the faces of my colleagues idly, remembering what they taught (I remember them all now!), and comparing their number to the number of teachers at Durmstrang, and then I realised what I'd been missing: a teacher of a foreign language! They don't teach any bloody foreign languages here! But that's dreadful! We didn't have any when I was a student, but that was in the bloody seventies, and now the times have changed and the level of international co-operation has grown about tenfold. And they don't have any language training at all! For some reason, they don't even have any formal Latin the way we did, apparently they just learn the spells by heart like nonsense words. How can they invent new ones then?.. That's bad, that is. Studying a language develops your mind, and I'm really happy I learned that before I was too old in Uppsala. (Well, and before that visiting Aunt Marrion in Black Forest also helped, of course.) Hmmm. Duty calls, like. Not that I'm too eager to take on extra work but I'm not really that badly loaded yet... I'm off to talk to the Headmaster.

I'm back! Well, predictably, Dumbledore didn't have anything against the idea. He thought Swedish was too exotic, so in two weeks' time, I'm starting an optional German conversation class for students of years three and upwards. What with the amount of things they have to do, he thinks two hour-long classes a week is quite enough. I can use my Runes classroom. I hope it works – I mean I haven't been teaching a foreign language for five years for nothing, I hope!

**September 17, Tuesday**

I've made up notices about German classes, asked the house-elves to pin them up in the common rooms. Wonder if this undertaking actually attracts much attention...

**September 18, Wednesday**

Curiously uneventful day. Just business as usual. Spent almost all day reading.

**September 19, Thursday**

Bathsheba's found some more work for me. She says it would be good to collect all the texts that we use in the course into a single portfolio. She says that it'll make a better impression on the authorities, and, on the other hand, "where there's one assistant, there are two or more," she said, and it would be considerably easier for anyone new and not too conversant with the intricacies of the filing system in the library to be able to consult this single collection. I see her point. I just wonder what she meant by there possibly being more assistants – are there any more Order members in need of urgent placement?..

**September 20, Friday**

Just back from my beginners' class, and now that we've got going properly it looks like they begin to enjoy themselves and find the subject quite fascinating. That's very pleasing.

On the other hand, I do get this "oh, I don't want to do this" feeling every time I think about getting ready for their class or going there. I don't get it with the fifth-years. I suppose it's because (a) I'm not really into teaching beginners – although there are certain plus sides there, I still vastly prefer intermediate groups, and (b) there was at least one familiar face in the fifth-year class (Hermione Granger), which had the effect of making them seem less, well, scary.

**September 21, Saturday**

Spent almost the whole day in the library again, copying out the texts from anthologies, atlases and scrolls. It's ten o'clock at night now, and I hate Runes. I see staves and branches in every criss-crossing shadow on the floor.

**September 22, Sunday**

Just spent two hours listening to the rerun of Only Ghouls and Kelpies on the WWN. Those timeless old classics. This is, I think, the twelfth time I've heard it and I still enjoy it enormously! Looking forward to next Sunday's episodes! They also announced they'd be launching a new show soon, called The Hex and the City. Apparently, unlike G&K, it's about modern life. I'll give it a try. And it's been ages since they last broadcast Great Incantations, I'd listen to that with pleasure, too. Or, on the music front, Kneazles.

**September ****23****, Monday**

Just wanted to record that I underestimated Lavender Brown and Hannah Abbott. Probably they are not the most brainy students in the class, but I've been very pleasurably impressed today (now that they've got over their initial wariness of a new teacher, apparently) by their eagerness to learn and the active part they've begun to take in the discussion. The classes are becoming better and better, in fact. They were all a little overwhelmed three weeks ago, a little shy – except Hermione Granger and Terry Boot – and I had to force them into speaking, but now they've quite come into their own.

**September 24, Tuesday **

Dammit! It's Aunt Clarisse's birthday! I forgot! Off to Hogsmeade in a hurry to send her a card and a box of chocolate roses with an express owl.

**September 25, Wednesday**

Looks like my German enterprise is actually attracting attention! A few people I barely know have come up to me and asked questions. That's good, that. Mildly surprised at Hermione Granger not having volunteered to learn German yet! (I mean with all her interest towards Viktor Krum and all that.)

**September 26, Thursday**

I've started reading a book I borrowed from the library in the village yesterday – it's a good library, by the way, for fiction. It's a Muggle book by a lady called Diana Jones, entitled Howl's Moving Castle, and it's actually about wizards. I'm enjoying it very much. Nothing to do with the real wizarding world, of course, more of fairy-tales come true, but very nice. Maybe I'll even copy it for myself.

**September 27, Friday**

Sitting in the staff room. Been chatting to Fergus Merrythought, the Muggle Studies master. (His grandmother was a teacher here too, as it happens, way before my time.) I like him, he's cheerful. He's very young (I think he graduated from this very school about five years ago), and the funny thing is that although he's completely and utterly pureblood, he's so enthusiastic about Muggles he reminds me of Arthur Weasley. They fascinate him. I like that. He's always full of jokes, very outgoing, and even more interested in music than me.

**September 28, Saturday **

Just been talking to Prof. McGonagall. She actually wanted to talk to Severus, but she approached him after lunch as we were standing together, so she let me come along to her office too. She's worried about Hagrid. He should have returned by now, and there's no sight of him at all. She was asking S if he'd heard anything about him in the Death Eater circles, but he hadn't. I couldn't remember any talk around the International Relations Dept either, and I think I would have if Hagrid had got into trouble somewhere in Eastern Europe – formally, I belong to the Desk that deals with that region, after all! The last I heard about him was at the Order's last meeting in August, and he was supposed to be heading for/have reached the Urals, and since Dumbledore decided that seeking support from Kitezh was dangerous before we'd actually established their allegiance, we had no-one to keep an eye on Hagrid there. I hope he's OK.

And I promise it's not my fault that Kitezh haven't replied yet, they were among the first people I wrote to on D's instructions.

**September 29, Sunday**

Weekends are really funny here. All the teachers wander about, sit in the staff room idly, talk, have endless tea etc. Some head for Hogsmeade's pubs. It feels a bit like being a part of a group of tourists lounging about the boarding house when a mildly boring trip to the local castle has been rained off.

Finished the Moving Castle, it was great! Am off to the village for more books.

**September 30, Monday **

This new book I've taken, called Castle in the Air, turned out to be a sequel to the Moving Castle! Good, I hope it's just as enjoyable.


	2. October

**October 1, Tuesday**

The two SpAWN projects I'm going to supervise for the Society have made an appearance. I Apparated to London after classes to meet them at the Society. Both are girls, their names are Kathreen Cracknee and Anastasia Scalding. Both look very, very clever, and are decidedly suitable candidates for Special Appraisal of Wizarding Novices. Kate's very enthusiastic, Anastasia a bit more relaxed – actually it might turn out to be a problem, she turned up fifteen minutes late for the meeting. We discussed what they wanted to do and how they are planning to go about it, I recommended some books for them and set the next meeting for October 31. They are in fact already well under way. I'm very happy and content, since the whole thing will apparently be much more enjoyable and much less embarrassing than last year, when I only saw the candidate about three times and the work was not really carried into the sphere of my interests and generally was, let's face it, bollocks. Well, that was my first time – I'm more experienced now!

And, another new start – I've given my first German class today! So weird! I'd been to London last week, on a book-shopping tour, and bought a beginner's course of German (in a Muggle bookshop, obviously, – that will remain a mystery for me forever: we can make wizarding English-language textbooks, cf. Wandlength and Hexway, OK they weren't the absolute best but at least they were there; what about the other languages? The great British snobbery, I call it, multiplied by the great wizarding snobbery), and spent the time between lunch and dinner copying out the pages that I needed for today. I wish I remembered who taught me the copying spell, I'd send them a huge crate of Chocolate Frogs or Firewhisky. Imagine if I had to actually write it all down!!!

Twenty people turned up, from all Houses and years as different as three and seven. We spent the first lesson learning some basic phrases and training pronunciation. I'll have to get a real German speaker in from somewhere to do it properly though. It's been great fun, and it looked like they enjoyed it too. For my part, I didn't even notice the hour pass, I even kept them late a few minutes. I hope we continue in the same vein.

**October 2, Wednesday**

Pay-day! (And I sort of forgot that I'm supposed to get paid for teaching here!) Nothing in common with the Durmstrang procedure, of course. I didn't really need gold there, since lodgings, books, food and even working clothes (mantle) were provided free, and anyway there was nowhere to spend the gold in the castle which I was forbidden from leaving; so the Head gave me a letter of credit which I subsequently exchanged for gold if I needed it during my Floo-trips to London. Here, though, I get real gold, and I have Hogsmeade to spend it in, too! The way it's arranged here is as follows: there's a special vault in the depth of the dungeons, a small circular room lit with torches; in the walls there are many little lockers, like in a luggage room at a railway station. On each, there's a name, and a row of digits carved into the doors. You find your name and tap the digits with your wand, in the correct sequence (the card with this combination was given to me when I was taken on the staff, it's been lying around in a desk drawer all this time), and the door opens and inside is your money bag! You don't have to take all the gold at once, either, and actually you can nip down there any time you want. And guess how much I found in my locker? A hundred Galleons, diary luv! Ya-hey! What with free dinners and lodgings, that makes me a rich wizard!

**October 3, Thursday**

Full moon

Spending the sleepless night compiling the list of my scholarly achievements for Umbridge: education, academic work, that sort of thing. I already did one for Dumbledore (for the Board, actually) when I first came, but she said she needed her own copy. Well, that's not too much work, and I must admit my full title looks impressive: Roderick Heald, MaD, Society of Ancient Tongues (Fellow), Department of International Magical Co-operation (Central European Desk), Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Assistant Professor). Plus Britain's third and youngest dwimmercrafty wizard. Not bad for someone my age!

Suddenly remembered my birthday celebration in August. I was at Gr.P., having breakfast with all the others, enjoying this secret that I had, and imagining with horror the fuss Molly would make if she knew. Then Sev. came in, all jerky and superior as usual, and I watched him and thought: "Will he remember this year?" I expected a nod, a knowing smile in passing, something of this sort. He bossed about for a while, virtually ignoring me, then turned to leave. "Well, what did you expect," I thought, and then he turned at the very door, looked at me hard and said pointedly: "Oh, and Roderick – I haven't forgotten. Happy thirty-fourth." I could have killed the bastard. I could see he was doing it to annoy me, he knew as well as I did what sort of person Molly was and how I hated this day to be made a fuss about, but (a) formally, he remembered my birthday for the first time in three years and (b) I didn't want to appear a complete madman to Molly and Tonks and Lupin and all the other people, so the only thing I could do was to say Thank you through clenched teeth. And of course Molly nearly dropped off her chair in excitement: "Oh, we'll have a party! Oh, I'll make a cake!" It took some persuading to restrain her, I can tell you. She did make a cake in the evening. And then, when I returned home, I found a small stack of gramophone records on my coffee table, five of them and all great, neatly held together with a ribbon, a card tucked under it written in his distinctive spidery hand: "After all is said and done, I'm kind of glad you were born, on this day or any other. Stick around. I hope you like the music."

**October 4, Friday**

Prof. McGonagall's birthday! She brought a bottle of wine to the staff room which we drank with pleasure after classes. That's another nice custom here, celebrating birthdays together.

**October 5, Saturday **

Just been for a walk. Dragged S out, too. We ambled about for about two hours, all over the grounds, along the wall and the Forest. It was nice. We didn't say three words together, as usual, but I still find that this way of interaction with S is the one I prefer. He's very good at being quiet himself, and easy to be quiet around.

**October 7, Monday**

Oh dear, oh dear. U has been inspecting Severus. I don't think the words he used in the evening, pacing round and round my room and blasting my books off the shelves, are necessary to record here!

I knew something was wrong, of course, at about eleven. The headache hit me, unfortunately, when I was in the staff room, so poor Prof. Flitwick was quite frightened when I nearly dropped my teacup and clutched the table for support. I managed to convince him that nothing was wrong and that I felt slightly dizzy after a bad night. Then Prof. Grubbly-Plank gave me a lecture on the potential fatality of high blood pressure if left unattended. It was only with the greatest difficulty that I managed to stop them from fetching Madam Pomfrey. Predictable, really, so I must make sure it doesn't happen again in a room full of people.

Another annoying thing that happened today was that U has – for a reason that is still a deepest mystery to me – disbanded all student groups, even Quidditch teams, and everyone has to seek her permission now to resume working within them. The funny thing is that my German class is also classified as a student group, since it's an optional course, so tomorrow, I'll have to go and beg her to allow me to continue teaching! (I didn't manage it today, what with a huge queue of students outside her office, Quidditch captains etc.) Two lessons in, and there's trouble already!

**October 8, Tuesday**

Great. Instead of a German class, I had to go and ask permission for it to be renewed. Well, she did allow it, of course, but she didn't look happy at all. Turns out she didn't know I was giving them, in the first place, so she was really cheesed off and I felt that she was groping for a reason to stop this nonsense; but there was no earthly reason to discontinue a perfectly harmless generally useful course, so next week onwards, I'm teaching German again.

**October 9, Wednesday**

Today is an historic day. I've got nothing to record! Nothing happened of any interest whatsoever!

**October 10, Thursday**

A group of my German students caught me after breakfast and asked me anxiously if I'd got the permission yet. When I said I had and that we were having our next class on Tuesday as usual, they were very happy and hopped away to the library to do their homework. Weirdos.

**October 11, Friday **

The season of laryngitis is upon us. Or pharyngitis, I can never remember which. I felt my throat was going yesterday, so I took steps by taking the Alpine miracle drops with my tea yesterday evening and today during breakfast – and after the lesson in the staff room today, too. Immediately my keen-nosed colleagues surrounded me and asked what it was, and when I told them, everyone wanted to try it, so that in two minutes, half the vial was gone! Everyone savoured the pungent smell, relished the immediate relief it gave to their strained throats and blocked-up noses, and started taking down the name of the potion to get it on their next visit to the apothecary's. Well, I can't blame them, it is an amazing thing. And no magic either, just plain herbs!

**October 13, Sunday**

Went for very long walks today and yesterday. Yesterday, I walked all over the grounds, venturing a little into the Forest, even. I do wish my stupid burn would heal already, I want to fly over it! Today, I went outside the grounds and climbed the mountains behind the village, enjoying the smell of the leaves and the damp air. I really like this time of year!

**October 14, Monday**

Fucking Hell. Calm. Calm. Bloody harridan. Can't record this today, sorry.

**October 15, Tuesday**

All right, I think I'm now calm enough to record what happened yesterday.

And what happened of course was that Umbridge came to inspect me. She'd already been to Bathsheba's class and found nothing wrong with her, so I wasn't expecting any trouble at all. And it did start in a very civil manner, too. She sat in the corner with her clipboard for almost an hour, scribbling something, and then, when I gave the class a translation to do and silence reigned, she came up to me as I was walking up and down the aisle controlling them and started asking questions, quite sane ones at first, about programmes and textbooks and exams and things, but gradually she started to, basically, put me down. She asked me whether I myself thought that I was qualified enough to teach Runes. I thought it was quite impertinent.

'Seeing as I've done a doctorate on the subject, I think I probably am, yes,' I said, at which she looked surprised and said:

'Oh, you did a doctorate, Professor Heald?'

That was when I understood that she was trying to provoke me or something. She had a file in her hands, and even looking at it upside down I could see that it was my personal file with all my details and a photo and the history of my education that I'd provided about a week ago. So I pointed into the parchment and said:

'That is actually written in my file here.'

'Oh,' she said, and simpered, looking up at me in this irritating girlish way she has. 'I'm sorry, it slipped my mind! How silly of me! But it also says that you are in fact a wicca? That is to say, you use Old Magic?'

'Yes, I am,' I said, wondering whether it was an offence under Educational Decree no. Whatsit. 'Although we prefer the term "warlock", ourselves.'

'And you refer to it in your Ancient Runes classes,' she said, as I had in fact mentioned some dwimmercraft spell or other just at that lesson.

'That's a logical thing to do, since Runes are used very often in Old Magic,' I said.

'I wonder whether the Ministry will be very happy to learn that such a dangerous thing as Old Magic is being taught to pupils as young as these,' she said.

Here we go.

'Firstly, Professor Umbridge, Old Magic is no more dangerous or unsuitable for young people than Modern Magic that is taught and used all over the country,' I said. 'It's just a different method of using the same powers. Secondly, I'm not teaching these students dwimmercraft. You need a licence to do that, and anyway I couldn't do it even if I had one. It can only be taught at dedicated schools. I only refer to it now and then and show them what I myself can do using it.'

'Well, I am happy to hear that these children are in no danger, then,' she said. 'Everyone knows that Old Magic, or dwimmercraft as you call it, is evil.'

I looked at her in dumb disbelief. I just opened my mouth to answer her when she cut across me:

'Professor Heald, I understand your father was a werewolf?'

I could hear the class hold their breath. They hadn't been paying attention to that translation for several minutes already.

I paused a little. Fuck you, I thought, do you think I'll disown my father?

'Yes he was,' I said.

She pressed on.

'And I understand that he—'

I had to stop her. I was not having my family history exposed.

'Professor Umbridge, do you think what my father did or did not do really matters in terms of my teaching abilities?' I said quickly.

She simpered again. I could see she was enjoying herself.

'Well... perhaps not,' she said. 'I just want to fill in the background for all the teachers, and you will not deny that your father is your background, will you?'

I had nothing to answer to that. I knew I was defeated. I just stood there and watched her collect her parchments and walk to the door. Suddenly she turned and smiled her horrible false smile at me again:

'Oh yes, and... your clothes, Professor Heald. Maybe you should consider wearing something more appropriate for the subject you are teaching?'

I wasn't wearing robes, of course. But I wasn't going to take that lying down. She'll be ordering me what clothes to wear now, will she? I spun round and changed my jeans and jumper into the full warlock getup, linen, fur and leather, complete with knife.

'Like this, you mean?' I said. She was taken aback a little, smiled again, more uncertainly, and left.

I walked over to the window and looked outside for a minute. There was complete and utter silence in the classroom. I felt like my head and insides were on fire, and I couldn't possibly go on with teaching that lesson. I turned to face the class. They were watching me avidly. No-one was writing anything, of course, and had not been, I could see their parchments were almost blank.

'I'm sorry about that, ladies and gentlemen,' I said, and I could hear my voice was hoarse and strained. 'I don't think there's any point in carrying on with the lesson. I suggest you take the translation as your home assignment. However, I don't think Mr Filch will be happy if you wander the corridors before the bell, so if you could just stay in the classroom until the end of the lesson...'

I turned to leave. But I wasn't let go. I feared it, and it happened: behind my back, a voice piped up:

'Sir?'

I turned around slowly. Terry Boot had his hand in the air.

'Yes, Mr Boot?'

'Sir... is it true? Your father was a werewolf?'

Well, what else could you expect? I had to sit down and tell them my whole sorry history. (Sit down, then pace up and down the room, because I couldn't keep still.) The whole gory tale of that fateful night when my father transformed before he could lock himself up and in his demented state turned onto Mother and Robert, the only humans he found near, then beheld what he had done in the morning and decided he had no right to go on living.

They were dumbstruck when I finished. Even the cynical Pansy Parkinson was looking quite moved. At least now they know the truth. I thought it would be better this way. Someone (and we all know who that someone might be) may start circulating rumours, and I don't want my family's memory dragged through the mud. I asked them not to advertise the story specifically, obviously, but to correct others in case they should hear a distorted version being related.

While I was talking, I heard a sharp intake of breath behind my back, and turned to see Hermione Granger clap a hand to her mouth.

'Your hair, sir!'

I knew what she was on about, of course, but others didn't.

'Showing off again, Granger?' Malfoy sneered.

'You're a volkolak— a wolf-hair, right?' she said, ignoring him. 'I should have known the moment I saw you...'

I had to give her five points for being so well-informed. Although it wasn't so hard to guess now that I was wearing the fur cloak – anyone would have noticed my hair's almost the same colour and texture as the fur. I actually look like the male version of Lady Godiva in it.

Then the bell went and the disastrous lesson was over. Now I'm supposed to wait for the results of the inspection. As if I bloody cared.

"Background". Just what she told Sev. Well, both our backgrounds do rather count against us, I fear. He a former Death Eater, I the son of a killer werewolf.

And of course she couldn't choose any other day than the anniversary of their deaths, of that disastrous day when I got the letter that brought my childhood to a sudden and violent end, the last words that my father wrote in his life before he plunged a silver knife into his broken heart.

It still kills me to think he used a silver knife. He'd been good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, he knew what a werewolf must be destroyed with.

And on top of all, the burn mark now looks like a rope wrapped around my arm and wrist. Funny way to heal. Still wearing the bandage, it doesn't hurt any more, but looks distinctly scary.

**October 16, Wednesday**

Hmmm. Weird. I might be going paranoid, but I got the distinct impression that they were giggling at me.

What a way to write a diary. As I walked along a corridor today, I passed a group of fourth- and fifth-year girls issuing from a loo. The only one I knew was Lavender Brown. As they caught sight of me, they exchanged looks and started giggling like mad. Naturally, I was puzzled, and looked at them enquiringly. That only sent them into more uncontrollable giggles. I shrugged my shoulders and passed on, and behind me, they started positively shrieking with glee. What the hell?..

**October 17, Thursday**

Found out about yesterday. Whatever induced me to chat to a teenage female ghost in a bathroom? I should have told her to go away the second I saw her. (Maybe that would've made matters only worse, though!) The girls yesterday, it turns out, were in fact laughing at me, or rather about me, after hearing some intimate details from Moaning Myrtle. Namely something about my hair. It's not as if it's a secret or anything, the fact that all the hair I have on my body is fur, but really, it's not something I would like a group of students to be discussing in a girls' loo between classes. I gave MM what for, but she's quite incorrigible.

German's been quite nice again, but I've found out where Muggle books are lacking: no magical words, of course! They give all those Muggle school-related words, but predictably there's no word for "wand", "quill", "broomstick" or "spell". I'll make up an additional word-list for them for Tuesday.

Oh, and it's Flitwick's birthday! I never knew that. We celebrated a little after the classes. He was very moved when we all wished him many happy returns. He's so, I don't know, NICE.

**October 18, Friday**

Found out another difference with Durmstrang. There, as we mostly sat holed up in our chambers, everyone went mad quietly on their own as the term progressed. Here, it's a collective thing. Just today, for example, as I sat marking in the staff room, someone said something about cauldrons and three of us – me, Prof. Vector and Prof. Sprout – launched simultaneously into the chorus from "A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love". It's only mid-October, and we're barking!

**October 20, Sunday**

A true teacher. Nothing to record on a weekend. No work, no life.

**October 21, Monday**

It's the fourth time that Hermione Granger has loitered about after class, then accompanied me down to the Great Hall for lunch, asking questions. She's got an amazing capacity for information. She's been asking me about various obscure problems that an average student wouldn't dream of burdening their brain with. At first I thought I was an object of her interest merely as a person who, until relatively recently, has been in immediate contact with her friend Victor Krum, but now I see she's developed an interest in my subject, too. That's definitely flattering.

**October 22, Tuesday**

Curse Muggle technology! I've just spent two hours in vain attempts to copy the sound from the magnetic tapes that accompanied my German teacher's book into something usable the wizarding way, cos obviously my students want something reliable to imitate by way of pronunciation, not just me. Aargh! Dammit!

1:23 AM: Just been woken by a great idea! Why haven't I thought of it before? This is bloody brilliant! I can bewitch the book itself to talk!! I'll try it in the morning. No, I can't wait...

1:27 AM: YESSS! I am cool! I am King of Technology!

**October 23, Wednesday**

Spent all day teaching the book to talk. It works brilliantly! I've fine-tuned the spell so that I can even do dialogues now, it can speak with a man's, a woman's and a child's voice. I only hope it doesn't get stage-fright tomorrow as I take it to class!

**October 24, Thursday **

Enough. This is it. I'm not going about branded. It's not a dream or illusion - it's not a rope coiled around my wrist - it is a bloody snake. Sev. says he thinks he knows a way of removing it - I'm going to his dungeon and having it removed, whatever it costs.

**October 27, Sunday **

Oh bloody hell. I'm amazed I'm still alive. Can't write much, will catch up later.

**October 28, Monday **

I wonder if it's the constant throbbing in my arm that makes me so evil, or if Sev. put in some of his own personality into that dragon bile. I took points off Slytherin this morning! Well, no, I suppose the real personality mutation will take place when I start docking points off Ravenclaw. Although wait, does he ever take points from Slytherin? He does not! Gaah! I've turned into Snape.

**October 29, Tuesday **

Oh how scary. I've been put on probation! Oh dear! Stupid woman. Doesn't she know I'm on probation already? That was the only way for Dumbledore to hire me in the first place, with no open vacancy available! I'll take this letter downstairs tomorrow and nail it conspicuously to the blackboard.

Cancelled German this week. Not as if I'm all that poorly, but Madam P did tell me to take things easy for a while.

I tried this method of putting my thoughts right onto the parchment with my wand, but what works OK with images doesn't work with text. The handwriting (headwriting??) is almost completely illegible. Does that show the state my mind is in?

**October 31, Thursday **

Three cheers for S and Madam Pomfrey! It's healing, with no traces of the snake! Much less painful now, I can write OK. (Although I did cancel the meeting with Kate and Anastasia. I'll see them next week. And it's Halloween, isn't it? Let the poor girls celebrate instead of sitting in meeting with me.)

What happened was that I did go down to Sev.'s dungeon, and he said that yes, he thought he knew a way of removing the bloody thing, but that it probably would be very painful. He explained that by the look of it, no ordinary potions would work there and something drastic was required. The something drastic he had in mind was dragon bile. I remembered what they told us about dragon bile in Uppsala and sort of wavered. He gave me a cold look and said, "Well, you can live with it if you want..." in a voice of such disdain that I sat down without a word and rolled up my sleeve. He put a stone slab on the desk, put on a pair of very thick gloves and got out the bottle of the sickly-looking, nasty orange liquid. Then he took a brush and applied this stuff to my burn and around it - "You see it's the only way for you to grow new skin here, and I'll have to put it over a wider area so that you grow it evenly... and keep it there for about five minutes, so that it burns off every trace of your brand under your skin, too." The pain was excruciating. Having smeared my forearm with the vile substance, he sat back in his chair, the tips of his fingers together, glanced at the clock and just watched me. I was trying hard not to faint. Then, after what felt like several weeks, he got up and said, "Come on." I staggered up, not understanding. "If you stay here for another five minutes with that stuff coursing in your blood, you'll die," he said matter-of-factly and led me upstairs to the Hospital Wing. I've got a very blurred image of what took place afterwards, actually, but I do remember Madam Pomfrey's horrified face, and how I thought that if I could only lay my head on the cool white pillow, I could find refuge from the fire that was eating me slowly. Then I must have fainted. I awoke in a very silent Hospital Wing, in semi-darkness, alone. I was so weak I could hardly keep my eyes open, and I could feel my arm was bandaged in what felt like a hundred layers of cotton wool. I called for Madam Pomfrey and wondered if the croaky voice was really mine. She came bustling out, wearing a dressing-gown and hairnet. It turned out it was eight in the morning – Saturday the 25th. I had been unconscious for the whole of Friday. She gave me some water and I dropped off to sleep again. I kept waking and falling asleep for the whole of Saturday. At one point I had the full-moon-night nightmare about Sev.'s trial. (Caused by overall weakness, I suppose.) Woke up screaming to find Hermione Granger at my bedside. She was quite shocked. She'd brought me a bag of liquorice sticks she'd bought in Hogsmeade (this extraordinary girl remembered my chance remark about liking liquorice at the HQ of almost four months before!) She looked genuinely concerned. Hope she doesn't start investigating. Lupin once told me how she outed him in their third year – on Sev.'s instigation, but all on her own. Must take care never to mention this episode to S. He came over himself in the evening (I'd asked Madam P to call him after dinner), we talked for about an hour. When he got up to leave, he noticed the liquorice and frowned: "A student brought that, right? I keep telling you..." and he was off on his usual rant of "you're their teacher not their chum", "distance" and "discipline". Why he bothers, I'll never know, we've had this discussion about forty times since I came to work here. The funny thing is that when he finished and wished me good night, I closed my eyes and could hear, first, a faint rustle that sounded very much like someone taking a liquorice stick out of a paper bag, and only then his soft retreating footsteps.


	3. November

**November 1, Friday **

Full moon

I did not overestimate Miss Granger. After dinner, she came looking for me at the staff room, and when I stepped outside, thinking she's got a question about Runes again, she looked me in the eye earnestly and said: "Sir, what is a Lamentor?" What choice did I have but to take her to my office (office... My classroom!) and tell her all there is to tell. I had made the mistake of asking Madam P to ask Sev. to come and see me with HG still within earshot on the day when she had come to visit me in the Hospital Wing, so she had waited for him to come and listened in on our conversation using something called "Extendable Ears". She thought that Sev. had some sinister power over me, because I had moaned his name in my nightmare in the obvious context of horror and anguish. The conversation had been fragmented enough for her not to understand anything much (we do have this very peculiar manner of talking with Sev. sometimes, since we both often know what the other is thinking), but she did catch the word Lamentor and, after a futile search through the library (Restricted Section, innit?), she mustered up her courage and decided to ask me. I made her promise to be silent to the grave, then told her everything, starting from our school years – the two lonely teenagers, the Black-Potter gang, my first interference, our unlikely friendship – to the day when I found him alone and despairing before the cold grate and realised there was only way I could help a repentant Death Eater. The idea of carrying half of Snape's turmoil seemed repulsive to her. Well, it would. I bet she's never seen him smile.

Still, it is peculiar that my worst nightmare is not about myself but about him. Even when I'm awake, the thought of a Dementor anywhere near Sev. sends shivers down my spine. If they damage souls, imagine what they can do to a soul already damaged... And think about it, if Dumbledore hadn't vouched for him, he really would have been marched away by Dementors, the way I see it in my dream, and who knows what then... he might have been dead by now, or, more likely, irrevocably deranged, or both. (Look at Black.) I've always thought that what I'm doing for him is dragging him away from the precipice of insanity. A Lamentor against a Dementor.

What I don't like though is the fact that being his Lamentor makes me live in the past just as much as he does. I've written this bit about my first interference and started remembering it in detail, and I know I'll now spend hours thinking about it, replaying it in my head, trying to imagine myself behaving better, being braver than I was. Although who knows, if I'd behaved like a hero, we might never have become friends. If I hadn't burst into tears suddenly while shouting at Potter on that pleasant June afternoon, Severus wouldn't have given me the book of curses afterwards "to use one of these next time instead of blubbering"; then I wouldn't have had any reason to approach him in September to give it back and to start a conversation – and he'd have never addressed me first, however difficult he may have found that Runes exercise that served as the starting-point of our communication. And also, of course, there's the fact that, since I broke down and cried, he felt superior to me. He'd have never talked to a person who would save him from his tormentors, jinxing them smoothly, and then just walk away proudly while he himself was struggling there, the sleeves of his robes grown three times their length and entwined all around him, his own inkwells dropping ink on his head from the air all the while.

**November 2, Saturday **

Very unpleasant day.

First, there was this disastrous Quidditch match - well, I am a weirdo, of course, since I could never understand how people can get so worked up about a stupid game. OK, it is pleasant when your team wins, I admit. But really, today was something quite horrid both for the winners (Gryf.) and the losers (Sl.). Slytherin has really gone down the drain since the '70s. When I was a student they never stooped to things like that, making up insulting songs about the other team's players, or throwing Bludgers at them after the whistle. Of course it all ended in a disgusting and disgraceful fight, which quite annihilated any joy that anyone might have felt, and spoilt the righteous indignation of the losing team, I'm sure. And then, to make the day complete, I had a quarrel with Sev. A real, no-nonsense quarrel. Don't know why he only found it out today, cos the whole thing took place on Monday, but it began with him accosting me in a corridor and telling me off for knocking points off Slytherin for Malfoy's behaviour on the 28th. This is what I find quite unbelievable. I mean Sev. is a very intelligent wizard, and he hates everyone in the world equally – so how, how on earth can he be so blindly partial about this little arrogant piece of waste matter, who isn't even trying to pretend he's a decent person? Anyway, he accosted me and started telling me off, like I said, and when I said that I was quite justified in doing what I'd done cos his little friend was insulting a girl, he got madder than ever. He thought I was referring to Hermione Granger (in fact it was Hannah Abbott), and basically accused me of falling in love with her or something - "she's got you quite enchanted with her brain power, hasn't she?!" I said I wasn't going to allow anyone to insult any girl in my class, told him to say that to his little friend if he wanted to, turned on my heel and walked away, and then, about ten yards down the corridor, the understanding hit me with its whole blinding clarity: HE IS JEALOUS! I couldn't believe it. The moment I twigged, I just lost my head. I ran back and caught up with him and it was then the real row began. I suppose I was shouting. I said I knew it wasn't about Malfoy or even about points off his precious Slytherin, but about me sticking out for somebody else other than S himself. I told him he had no monopoly on my sympathy and protection. He flared up, of course, and we had the fight we often used to go through before, "I never asked you to do what you're doing" and "So why don't you tell me to leave you alone" and "emotional blackmail" and "you're the one with the power to set us both free" and "if you only knew how I hate you" and the rest of it.

He still can't say the word "Lamentor", by the way, you'd have thought he'd have got used to it after fourteen years but no. It's still "It". "Doing It", or "doing what you're doing".

No, but really! OK, he didn't ask me to Lament for him. OK, it was my idea, my own initiative. He never wanted any help and he'd have coped on his own etc etc etc. But for fuck's sake, if he's so unhappy with it, why does he keep it up? He knows as well as I do that I couldn't stop doing it even if I wanted, that he's the one who has to say the word to break the connection. If he's so uncomfortable, why not just tell me to go the fuck away? Yet he's never even tried to, I know he hasn't. He's happy enough about dumping his pain on me, about mutilating my soul with his actions along with his own, about me being there as a shoulder to cry on, these are the things that I've never heard the "leave me alone" bit on, only the "I never asked you to" with more than a fair share of grim satisfaction in his voice; so you'd think he'd have the decency to be at least nice about it, I'm not talking about gratitude, who's ever seen Snape being grateful (Dumbledore alone, most likely), but the least he could do would be to let me have a life of my own. If he hates me, why be jealous? He hates me, yet he wants me to be there for nobody else.

I'm so tired of his absurd behaviour. And there was me yesterday, standing up for him!

Going to bed now, disgruntled.

3 a.m. Can't sleep. Tossed about for a while, then decided it wasn't worth it, got up, got dressed, now sitting in the window-seat and watching the snow fall. Going round and round in circles, replaying the argument in my head. Feeling very bad about it now I've cooled down a little, about my own part in it I mean. It wasn't the first time he'd hurt me or been unfair to me, I should have kept my head. The awful thing is that, in the long run, I don't actually care how much he hurts me, I still want to help. (He's bad because his soul is warped, so he needs help, blah blah blah. I do hate myself sometimes, I really am weak.) I don't know what he'd have to do for me to stop wanting to help him, it would take something extraordinary, some unimaginable betrayal on his part. Or mine.

**November 3, Sunday**

Ventured out flying for the first time after the removal of the brand. My arm doesn't hurt any more, but I got tired very quickly and returned home. It was pretty nippy, but the snow seems to have melted.

Just realised we've been back into Winter Time for a week already and I didn't even notice the clocks move.

**November 4, Monday**

Oh no. The latest Educational Decree has been made public. It came through on Saturday, actually, but nobody save Dumbledore and Prof. McGonagall actually knew. The High Inquisitor has been given powers that overrule those of "common teachers". The decree is mainly dedicated to assigning punishments etc, and basically gives her powers equal to those of the Headmaster as regards all sorts of administrative issues. Turns out she's already wielded it, having overruled McGonagall with the punishments for Harry Potter and whichever it was of the Weasley twins that was engaged in the brawl with Malfoy after the Quidditch match on Sat.: McGonagall wanted to give them detentions, but U turned up and gave them a LIFE-LONG BAN on playing Quidditch!!! Moreover, she included the other Weasley, who didn't even fight, in the ban! (Malfoy, of course, got off with a mild admonition from his Head of House. Not as if I'm surprised or anything.) We learned all that at the staff meeting, which, from now on, will be held on a weekly basis. The task for next week is to bring a description of your academic career, and when I muttered, "What, again?" (quite unnecessarily loudly in fact since I wasn't actually talking to anyone), she fixed me with an intimidating stare and said, "Yes, Prof. Heald, again, and in a slightly more formal fashion this time, thank you." She's got a thing about "formal", apparently. Formal clothes, formal papers. For other people, that is. For herself, she's quite happy to have a coquettish bow in her hair and some perfectly atrocious plates with kittens on adorning the wall of her office (saw them myself as I delivered the first version of my CV to her in October).

To more important things: Severus was cold as ice this morning, as he had been for the whole of Sunday. I caught him after breakfast before he slunk off to his dungeon, said I wanted to be friends again. He folded his arms and surveyed me through his curtains of hair (I do wish he'd wash it every now and then!), his large nose in the air, then said: "You're so weak," and left me standing there. Apparently he thinks he's won a victory over me, and since I'm the loser, I'm forgiven. Well, God speed.

Well, he's right isn't he. I am weak. If I were strong, I wouldn't feel guilty about being insulted in the first place.

**November 5, Tuesday**

It's been snowing heavily again today. I had a German class as usual, and when we finished at about seven, it was already quite dark, and then someone said suddenly: It's snowing! We all trooped to the windows and saw the flakes cover the ground thickly. It's been falling steadily ever since, and it's already half past one. There's been no wind, so the snow puts thick blankets on all the turrets and on the trees and everywhere. Wonder if it stays until tomorrow. If it does, I'm going for a fly over the grounds and the village, it must look incredibly picturesque.

And it's Bonfire Night in the Muggle world, too! I remember I used to enjoy it enormously when we lived near Scarborough. We used to walk to town, climb up to the castle and watch the Muggles burn their bonfires and fire their fireworks, and Dad gave me a few crackers and I fired them (Robert was considered too young to handle them, but I was grown-up enough!) and we cheered and shouted.

I think I'll get my descrying mirror out and watch what's going on in the Muggle towns for a while.

**November 6, Wednesday**

Another great idea of U's has been made public. She says that the Ministry would like an up-to-date description of the school, since their most recent systematic description dates back to the time when Dumbledore became Headmaster about fifty years ago. So now we all must provide, not only the list of all our titles (again!) and the programmes for all the courses, but also personal details like age etc, so that that know everything: the average age of a teacher, the average number of sq. feet of classroom per teacher and student, the average number of classes a teacher has, stuff like that. We've already measured the staff room and found out that between us, we have about a square foot each. Prof. McGonagall is very angry (and she's really scary when she's angry!) because she's the one in charge of the whole thing. And guess what this whole project is called. No? Are you ready for it? Intellectual Audit!!

Evening: Just returned home. Been for a fly. Am cold but content. I really like the way the buildings look in the dark, with all the little lights in the windows and snow on the roof etc. I flew up to Ravenclaw Tower and sat on the window-ledge there for a while. It was like going back in time. I watched the students, some were lounging by the fire, playing with a cat, others sat at tables reading and studying, and there was a boy in my window-seat, a second- or third-year, reading a large book, having half-drawn the curtain on himself. He could have been me, it was so weird. Then another boy came up to him, drew the curtain aside and said something, and the window-seat boy nodded, put down his book and went over to a table where a game of chess was being set out. They are still into chess! We even had inter-House chess competitions when I was in my fourth year, only they were soon discontinued because Ravenclaw won all the time. Har har!

**November 7, Thursday**

Prof. McGonagall has decided she needs help with all the paperwork, and therefore the long-vacant post of school secretary is likely to be filled soon. She's contacted the Ministry department that helps young graduates to find jobs (its head is a friend of hers, it seems), they promised to find someone for us.

**November 8, Friday**

Had a regular meeting with Kate and Anastasia. All seems to be going well.

All the snow's melted away, by the way. Shame!

**November 9, Saturday**

Hmm, this is peculiar! A girl's just come to see McGonagall today about the secretary's job. Who could think the Ministry could be so efficient about something concerning Hogwarts?.. ahh, I think I know. They hope she'll be another spy here.

Later: If that indeed was the Ministry's design, they're going to be sorely disappointed. The girl, whose name is Cassandra Wellsweep, is a staunch supporter of Dumbledore's and is very bitter about the Ministry. Looks like Prof. McGonagall's friend knew whom to send to us!

**November 11, Monday**

This woman is a true bureaucratic genius. Her latest invention: to ensure that we're all in our classrooms at the start of the class, that is to make sure no-one's late from lunch or playing truant, she's had Mr Filch install some enchanted locks in the classroom doors which will from now on tell her at what time, precisely, the classroom was opened by the teacher. If you're late more than five minutes, you're supposed to write a report explaining why. You also have to write one if you're missing classes due to illness.

It's not that I don't see her point, teachers mustn't be late, I agree. But who exactly does she think we are that we should need this level of administrative control?

Also, it really gets me that she doesn't seem to care at all about the students' part in the process. It's always us, the teachers: we must be on time, we must prove we're good, we must explain our every move, we must be up the scratch. If the whole of my Slytherin group misses a class, for example, it won't matter a bit as long as I open the classroom on time. Incomprehensible.

**November 13, Wednesday**

Had an emergency meeting with Kate – she's had a new bright idea, which changed her point of view on the material. I really enjoy working with that girl, and feel sort of envious: I wish I were as studious and devoted! I really like, her, too, she's great fun. She doesn't wear robes, to our meetings at least, but long gypsy-style skirts with lots of frills and a lot of bangles. Her hair is rather short, jet-black, and she wears a lot of black stuff around her eyes, don't know what it's called exactly. And she's always very enthusiastic and active and ready to defend her point of view, which is invaluable for a SpAWN candidate.

**November 15, Friday**

Lovely day outside, sunny and bright, but I'm stuck here in the staff room marking. I'm sharing the seclusion with Aurora Sinistra, who's also marking some astronomy problems she'd set. We're sharing the fun, reading out the more, shall we say, unusual of the students' ideas.

German was good fun yesterday, by the way. I forgot to put it down. We looked at modals (können, darfen etc), and they seem to really understand it! This course-book I found is really good, in fact. I'm very happy. I set them a small essay to write. They moaned, but when I said, "Well, if you don't think you're up to it..." they all went "Yes we are!!!"

**November 17, Sunday**

Ah. Great. Bathsheba's just called me over the Floo, I went to her office to find her completely ill, sore throat etc. She's asking me to substitute for her on Tuesday with the third-years, and on Wednesday with the fourth-years (she hopes to be OK by Thursday). It's easier with the latter, since she's given me a long text they're supposed to translate in class, so my only job will be just to be there and not allow them to copy each others' work. Both the third-year groups, though, must have a proper class. Thank heaven they only have forty minutes each. B's given me a textbook and explained what their homework was. I'll also have to look up a text for them to translate in class.

**November 18, Monday**

Weekly Staff Meeting again. What new horrors are in store for us I wonder?..

Oh no! When will her ideas run out? Her newest idea is to have each of us make up something she called Teacher's Individual Plan, and it's going to include SEVENTEEN pages! Why can't she just let us teach quietly? What's going to improve if we document our every step? Incomprehensible..

Now I'm off to the library to look up a text for tomorrow.

Later: Nine o'clock already! I didn't notice the time pass at all, and only came to my senses when Madam Pince came up and asked me whether I was ready to go or would like to lock up the library myself. I got completely immersed in a book in the Restricted Section. Madam Pince is another incredible person here, she doesn't change at all. She's still the same as she was twenty years ago. And is still fond of me in her way! (When she started treating me well, everyone was convinced I was a weirdo even more than before. But the fact is that she's very sentimental, and was very taken with my unfortunate history, and of course all the time I spent in the library after that, when I tried to take the edge off my pain by studying and studying and studying non-stop for days on end, which resulted in me being transferred from year four to year five after the Easter holidays. And mind you, I didn't tell anyone, save Sev., that during the summer that I had to spend in Hogwarts between the fifth and the sixth year she entrusted me with the mission of airing the reading hall every day for the whole month she spent with her sister in Norfolk, and gave me the spare Catalogue Key!) And, as soon as I came to work here three months ago, she asked me whether I wanted the Key! She knows I'm this top-notch scholar, apparently, and looks like she is actually proud of me in a way. And well she might, I learned so much from her books. Especially with the Key. Of course I learned fast, I didn't have to sift through tonnes of print/manuscript matter to find the information I needed, the Key showed me all the necessary books! Being on good terms with the librarian is a huge asset, and, truth to tell, a very rare one here. Nobody likes the poor woman! (When I was a student, too, my classmates preferred to ask me, a bookworm of some renown, to find books for them rather than go and ask Madam Pince, even though it's supposed to be part of her duties.) Looks like it's another function of mine here, being friends with people whom nobody likes. Severus, Mrs Norris and Madam Pince. Nice company.

That summer at Hogwarts. Strange time. On the one hand, the reason I had to stay was a situation that I wouldn't want my bitterest enemy to encounter. On the other, it was truly one of the best summers of my life, I learned and experienced so much. Flying my broom over the Forest, staying in the library from dawn till dusk if I wanted, having meals on my own in the common room – oh, the Hogwarts strawberries and cream! Fraternising with the teachers and Hagrid, going to Hogsmeade every weekend, and of course the newly-found joy of not having to wear glasses after the brief visit to St. Mungo's where they cured my short-sightedness – free of charge, too, for an orphan. I grew about a foot, too. When all the other students came back to school in September, my friends had trouble recognising me, even Abercrombie the prefect.

Look, stop it. It's your diary, not your memoirs. You're too young for writing memoirs yet, or so I hope!

**November 19, Tuesday**

Just finished the substitute classes. They were good fun, actually, it's not as scary as I thought. I'd prepared even more than was necessary, as it turned out. It was quite dynamic and interesting, and after the class some of the kids disloyally asked me if I'd ever teach them again!

Oh dear, I almost forgot I'm having German today too! I thought I'd done my teaching bit for today.

Tomorrow's Aunt Elaine's b.d. Gotta write her a card. Oh, I'm out of them! OK – Hogsmeade tomorrow.

Why couldn't she take me during the summer I described yesterday, by the way? They all had their reasons, I remember. The poor Aunt Vivienne was slightly off her rocker even then; Aunt Florence was out too, I wasn't welcome in their home, what with Uncle Malvolio treating the young Claribella like a princess royal, and Aunt Isolde couldn't possibly find a place to squeeze me into in her house, what with Donald, Eric and Basil there and Bernard expected shortly. Aunt Clarisse was already in America, and Aunt Marrion was in Black Forest and couldn't afford to keep me like she did the next year; and yes, I remember now, Aunt Elaine was ill. Six aunts, and I had to spend the summer at the school. Who would believe it?

**November 20, Wednesday**

Whew. Sent that card after all! There was a huge queue at the post office in the village, for some reason, and when my turn came they said all the local express owls were gone!! I had to wait for an hour, and it's a good job I went there right after breakfast, otherwise the chances of Aunt Elaine getting her card today would've been minimal. When an express owl returned, I hired it straight away, although it broke my heart to see the expression on its face. It'd just come all the way from Sevenoaks, and there was me waiting with my letter to Llandudno! I know I should've used the Owlery, but they don't have express owls there, as it turns out. Predictable, really.

**November 22, Friday**

Just got back from a meeting with Kate and Anastasia. Kate amazes me. She's working so hard! Anastasia's more your usual sort of researcher, more like me, relaxed and not too concerned.

**November 23, Saturday **

Gillingham St, London. Woke up today and realised I missed London. Therefore have asked permission to spend the weekend here, and, as soon as permission was given, I took the Floo to my flat. It's gone all dusty and abandoned, so I lit the fire and spent the afternoon cleaning it. Then I decided to go out for a meal somewhere Muggle for a change. I found a small restaurant and had dinner, and then just walked the streets. It was cloudy but not too cold. I really liked this sensation of being part of the crowd, just a man like any other, and the other people having no idea of the powers that are hidden within me. The Muggles are already getting ready for Christmas, many shops are decorated, and I spent some time just walking around a shopping precinct, browsing, breathing in the smell of the perfume counter, the bakery and the tea shop, leafing though books. I felt absolutely free, and suddenly realised that I'd been walking around smiling. Well-being, that's what it's called.

Now I'm home, and about to have a plate of pasta and a glass of wine, followed by a cup of Earl Grey, before the fireplace. I think it's been a perfect day.

**November 24, Sunday**

Still London. Woke up very late, and was meaning to spend the day wandering aimlessly, the way I did yesterday, but now that I've had my tea my conscience is beginning to nag me. Maybe I'm needed at Hogwarts. ('Course I'm not, they'd have contacted me if I were, but still.) OK then, I'll just nip into Gringotts for some gold (there's Christmas shopping to be done soon!) and go back to school.

Back at Hogwarts. Evening. Nope, nobody had missed me – save Mrs Norris who'd come yesterday for a chat, found the room locked, and had to try again today. She likes sitting on my fur cloak, so I draped it over the chair for her and set it before the fireplace. She spent almost three hours here, even purring a little as she sat there snugly in the folds of the cloak.

**November 25, Monday**

She's at it again, Hermione Granger. She stopped waiting around for me after classes after our big talk about my Lamenting, I thought she'd gone off me. No she hasn't. Today, she was the last to leave the classroom again and as I was locking up, she asked a question answering which took us all the way down to the Great Hall and even kept us standing a couple of minutes in the entrance hall. If I were her, I'd apply for a SpAWN after graduating. She could be a Doctor in five years, easily.

I fear, though, there's more to it that just craving for knowledge. Looks like she's sorry for me because of the Lamenting, and tries to cheer me up. That's a very bad thing. Firstly, I don't want a fifteen-year-old girl to be sorry for me and try to cheer me up, I'm a grown man for Merlin's sake! Secondly, I don't want this to make her dislike Severus even more (for her own sake rather than for his). And thirdly, they say it's dangerous for young girls to feel sorry for someone, because that's just one step away from wanting to protect—to care about—to love, and that would be a full-scale, undiluted disaster. I hope Krum's an attractive enough young man to keep her affection riveted to himself. His phonetics was somewhat below par, but I don't suppose it matters in a relationship!

**November 26, Tuesday**

I'm so glad we've got Cassandra! She's gradually become the person in charge of all the comings and goings in the staff room, and in between filling all the mad tables and forms that the Ministry's sent down to plague us, she finds time to take messages from students, do some small errands for us and even clean teacups!

**November 27, Wednesday**

Been to the village library again – rummaged through their Muggle section and found another book on wizards, by a guy called Terry Pratchett, the book's called The Colour of Magic. I've started reading it and I'm enjoying it hugely. This Pratchett person certainly has a way with words! Lovely twists of plot, too.

**November 28, Thursday**

Just suffered a mild humiliation at the hands of my esteemed colleague Professor Snape. The thing is, my everlasting quill leaked during the German class, so by the time we finished my fingers were all spattered with purple ink. Nobody seemed to mind that, but then, en route to the staff room, I ran into S who, before I even said hello, took hold of my right hand, looked at it in obvious disbelief, then looked at me and said exasperatedly: "Inkfingers, you're a teacher now, for Merlin's sake! Try to look like one, too!" Then, before I could answer, he took out his wand, pointed it at my hand and said, "Scourgify!" The hand went clean. He authoritatively took my other hand and repeated the process. He didn't bother to keep his voice down, or to walk the three feet that were between us and the staff room; he did all that in the full view and hearing of all the students the corridor was full of. I called him a few names when we finally reached the staff room, but the deed had been done! I don't think I'm wrong in saying that my reputation among the students, if I had any, is now completely ruined.

I wish I could retaliate but I also know that I'm too conscientious for that. (Naah... make that weak-willed.) It would give me more discomfort than pleasure to see him put down publicly. (And quite certainly some physical pain, too.) Well, screw him, why do I have to keep thinking about him? I'm going for a late evening fly.

**November 29, Friday**

That's it! I'm sitting down and cleaning out the desk drawer. I've just spent twenty minutes looking for a bookmark in its uncharted depths!

**November 30, Saturday**

Been for a walk again. Met Hagrid near the pumpkin patch and chatted a little with him. He didn't want to talk in detail about his summer mission, understandably, but I could see it had been a hard one: he's all covered in barely healed bruises and scratches.

He did tell me, among other things, that I needn't be so cautious about going to the Forest. "Naah, yer great pillock. They won't hurt yer – they can feel you smell of Old Magic! No beast 'ud hurt a warlock like you. And yer can talk ter them, can't yer?" So next time I'm out, I'm going there and seeing if he's right or not.

We shared experiences on being (relatively) new teachers and how difficult it is to win the students' respect, I complained about the latest Snape episode, to which H answered along the lines of, "don't worry, everyone knows he's a evil git who likes putting people down, they might even like you more now". Can't say I don't see his point.

He's still the same as I remember him from my time at school (well, apart from being older), with the same accent. (How on earth was it possible to retain it after studying at Hogwarts, which levels everyone's speech out? Maybe it's because he left it before his time.)


	4. December

**December 1, Sunday **

Full moon

Nothing interesting beside that.

**December 2, Monday**

The usual Monday tripe, including the WSM. Only two left before the end of the term, thank Heaven!!! As I was whiling away the time chatting to Severus over the two-way notebook, I remembered that today is its anniversary. It was in December 1976 that S had this bright idea when I said I'd been meaning to tell him something interesting that I'd thought of the night before in my common room and forgotten completely in the morning. We used scraps of parchment first that he'd put some complicated charm on, and then, on our next Hogsmeade weekend, we bought the two identical notebooks that still serve us so well.

**December 3, Tuesday**

Went to the library after German, to look up a book I wanted to refresh in my memory, and found S there, crouched, in his usual library posture, on a stepladder in a corner, the book close to his eyes. It took me quite back in time. I remember I started to single the grim big-nosed Slytherin out in the crowd even before I knew his name, as the boy who would take a book off the shelf and often not bother to find a good seat at a table, losing himself in the text instantaneously and oblivious of what was going on around him. All the time I spent reading and studying alone in the library in my fourth/fifth year, I met him there. I asked somebody what his name was because I was interested in this person who seemed to be even more of a bookworm than me, and I think this is what first nudged my sympathy in his direction, rather than, as in the case of almost everyone else, in the direction of Black/Potter/Lupin/Pettigrew; that and the fact that he was – by that time, what with all his older friends having already graduated – almost always alone and it was just so unfair when they attacked him two, three or even four on one, however skilled he might have been at all kinds of inventive curses. And of course after we started hanging out together, it was our main base, since we had to go to different common rooms after nine o'clock and couldn't enjoy each other's company. Also, the library offered good refuge from the Gang, cos even they weren't mad enough to duel or shout insults there, with Madam Pince around. They sometimes whispered nasty things, though. I remember once, as we were sitting together, S checking my Potions essay and me trying to unravel a particularly complicated Runic formula for him, I suddenly heard: "Hey, Snivelly, Inkfingers, when's the wedding?" I raised my head to see Potter, with Black and Pettigrew hovering in the background. S didn't flare up, for a change, didn't even reach for his wand, just looked at him very coldly and said: "What's it to you, Potter? You're not invited anyway," and turned away. Even Potter's own cronies laughed at this. It was our territory.

**December 4, Wednesday**

Robert would have turned twenty-eight today. Twenty-eight, think about it. And I have no idea what these years would have been filled with. My own brother's life is a deepest mystery for me. He might have grown up to be a greengrocer or an Auror. I don't even know what he'd look like now. This is just so depressing.

**December 5, Thursday**

Sorry, there'll be no entry today. I've had German and a meeting with my SpAWNs, so I'm exhausted. Nighty-night!

**December 6, Friday**

Hagrid's birthday. He's not a frequent guest at the staff room, but he did turn up today, with a huge bowl of home-made candy. Everyone greeted him warmly, he was very moved, but I didn't see a single person touch the candy after he left!

**December 7, Saturday**

Just been to Hogsmeade, Christmas-shopping. Bought a whole pack of Christmas cards. I think I'll take them to the post office early next week to be on the safe side. Now, who to?

Aunt Clarisse

" " Elaine

" " Florence

" " Isolde

" " Vivienne

" " Marrion

Ruthwell

Uppsala

Kitezh

Arthur and Molly Weasley

Tonks

Kingsley Shacklebolt

Black???? maybe a formal one, we are in the same Order after all

Lupin????

probably a general all-inclusive card to HQ, since I don't remember the names of all the Order people I came into contact with – yes, and including Black as master of the house. That's one moral dilemma solved! Lupin gets his, though, he's normal

Kate

Anastasia

I've also bought a few small things that might come in handy as presents. I'll think about who gets what closer to Christmas itself. Anyway none of them will have to be posted.

**December 8, Sunday**

Was hit by a bright idea after breakfast. Over the marmalade, I had suddenly realised I wanted to make presents to all of my colleagues, but abandoned the idea after three seconds' consideration as that would be prohibitively expensive. And then as I was climbing the stairs it hit me: it needn't be! If I buy a pack of something, say Christmas tree decorations, I can give them one each and save a lot of gold. Am off to Hogsmeade again. I think they'll think I'm a moron at the shop.

Later: Yes! Bought a pack of small silver baubles, and they only cost me two Galleons. I'll make them bigger and put some nice charms on them, so that they change colour or play a tune or something. I think they'll make pleasant gifts.

**December 9, Monday **

Weekly Staff Meeting

Bored! Bored! What's the sodding point of having meetings all the time?

Hang on, the two-way notebook seems to be vibrating... yepp, S is bored too. Lovely, I'll chat to him instead of listening to this shite.

**December 10, Tuesday**

After German: Suddenly had a bright pedagogical idea. (That's the second

bright idea in three days!) My "Germans" are pretty far along now, so why don't I try and give them song texts with gaps in, like I did in my English classes at Durmstrang? The only problem, presumably, will be to find songs easy enough for them to understand. We've already learned to sing a song ourselves, so I might as well try this. Equipment, though. When I've found them, how shall I play them? It was easy with this song that we've done, I bewitched the textbook to play it. What about the ones that aren't included in the book? At Durmstrang they gave me a gramophone to play the records that accompanied Wandlength (so I could use it to play my own as well), but there isn't one here, I've already checked. Then again, where's the guarantee that I'll find any German-language songs on records? No, my music-box seems to be a much more practical solution, since all I need there is my memory and a wand. But do I remember enough songs? I did listen to the local Wireless at Durmstrang all the time. I'll have to pull all of the songs out of my head and examine them.

**December 11, Wednesday**

Wow! I had no idea I remembered so many German songs. I had to go and ask the Headmaster's permission to borrow his Pensieve, because the music-box's capacity wasn't enough! On his advice, I went to Hogsmeade and bought a lot of tiny vials before starting, so that I was able to remove a song from my head, listen to it as it played in the Pensieve, then seal it into the vial and label it so that I can find it easily later. I've been sitting here crouched over the Pensieve for almost three hours, and I've got no less than two hundred vials before me now! I even had to duplicate the containers every now and then. So all I have to do now is just pour the thought into my music-box and bingo! I've tested it a few times, it works very well. Now to choose a simple song and copy down the text.

**December 12, Thursday**

Tried the new technology in class, it was a great success. They've made me promise we'd do loads more of it next term.

**December 13, Friday**

End-of-term tiredness begins to make its presence known. Even the still-disciplined third-years were pretty much completely unresponsive today, I even had to let them go ten minutes earlier because there was just no bloody point. Gave them loads of homework though. They don't have long to suffer anyway, we're breaking up for Christmas holidays in a week.

It's Luciadagen in Sweden. Wish I were there!..

**December 14, Saturday**

Wonderful day! The weather was perfect, sunny and crisp. I got up smiling, and decided that the day was too good to waste indoors, so after breakfast I went on a shopping spree to Hogsmeade. I needed some new quills and parchment, and wanted to replenish my stock of tea, so I got my money bag and took the staff and walked across the shimmering white lawn down to the village. There I had a couple of pleasant hours choosing quills and rummaging through books, and having a mug of hot Butterbeer at Madam Rosmerta's.

As I walked back, I could see Hagrid sweeping snow off the roof of his hut, with his enormous dog gambolling around, and a group of kids throwing snowballs at each other. I felt very happy. I fancied a skate, and was just walking along the road thinking about what would be best to turn into a pair of skates (I was leaning towards parchmentclips), when suddenly my left ear was filled with snow. I stopped, somewhat winded, dropped my bag and staff into the snow-bank and started digging the remains of the snowball out of my aural channel, and heard a familiar Irish voice say in tones of terror:

'Oh, I'm sorry, Professor Heald, sir...'

And suddenly I felt I wanted nothing in the world so much as to join them in their snowball fight.

'Sorry?' I drawled, 'I'll give you sorry, Mr Finnigan...' Then I grabbed a handful of snow, crushed it in my fist and sent it flying towards Seamus Finnigan, knocking off his woollen hat. He was taken completely by surprise, of course, and looked scandalised.

'I wasn't expecting this, sir!' he said indignantly.

'I didn't expect yours either, Mr Finnigan,' I said, scooping up another fistful of snow. We were standing in a circle, I expectant, they hesitant. They weren't sure of what was going on, but I think my widening grin gave them a clue, because Hermione Granger suddenly piped up, "We'll avenge you, Seamus!" and threw an inexpert snowball at me, hitting me on the shoulder.

I turned to her, hitching a look of fatherly reproach to my face.

'Miss Granger,' I said, shaking my head ruefully, and when she looked down, blushing, I lobbed my snowball at her.

And we were off. They started pelting me with snowballs, left right and centre. Then Neville came running along and with a battle-cry of "Hold on, cousin!" he joined me. The next half-hour was pure ecstasy. Finally I let them overcome me and surrendered, tripping and falling over backwards into the snowdrift. Then the bell rang for lunch and we all trooped, wet and ruddy-faced, to the castle. As we entered, I saw S standing in the shadows. He shot me a very dirty look and swished past me with a very audible "huh!" During lunch, he wouldn't look at me at all, and only after we rose from the table and I caught him by the sleeve, demanding what the matter was, that he deigned to tell me that he considered it degrading for my status as a teacher to join the students in their games. Well, I should have known. Turns out he'd been watching me for the whole half-hour through the window, only to work up some righteous indignation about my irresponsible behaviour. Git.

However, after lunch, I did turn two parchmentclips into tolerable skates and had a great time on the Lake. I remember Sev. used to enjoy skating too, but of course he wouldn't dream of joining us – that is, myself, Flitwick, Madam Hooch and Aurora Sinistra. Preposterous old sod. He doesn't know what he's missing.

Oh and, Aurora Sinistra is family all right. She's the daughter of Ugolino Sinistra, Aunt Florence's brother-in-law. (That is, my cousin. Yet another one.) She's much nicer than them, though. I don't see her around often, since she mostly teaches at night, but she turned out to be very friendly and outgoing, and very interested in books. We've decided to go to the village bookshop together some day and share opinions and tips.

Bollocks! Assessment sheets!!! First thing tomorrow, Roderick, and yes, I know it's Sunday!

**December 15, Sunday**

Whew. Good thing I remembered about the assessment tables. Went to the staff room before breakfast, the gargoyles were very rude to me but I shut them up. (It's dreadful when there are creatures who remember you as a small boy in a place where you're trying to build up some authority!) Filled in the sheets and quietly slipped them in the appropriate folder so that (I hope!) nobody notices they came in so late.

**December 16, Monday**

Term's last WSM. Don't forget to set tasks for the holidays, blah blah blah. Don't forget the assessment sheets. Done that! (Ha ha!)

**December 17, Tuesday**

Oh dear oh dear. Taking a break from marking. End of term, tests and things – and Hermione Granger's handed in a twelve-inch essay when I asked for seven inches! I'm bored of sitting here on my own, I think I'll go down to the staff room.

**December 18, Wednesday**

Uh-oh. I think I've really done the wrong thing today. She may be a revolting old toad, but anyway... I should have been politer to a witch who's older than me, and of course it was extremely unwise to end a term on such a note. I came back from my beginners' class, and was sitting in the staff room with a cup of tea, when U came in. It has been a rather cold day, so I was wearing my old warm jumper and jeans, and just as I was warming myself with a hearty mug of hot cinnamon tea, she comes in and says:

'Oh, Prof. Heald, I thought you stopped wearing Muggle clothes to your classes, and found a way of dressing more appropriate for your subject, as I told you you should?'

The ironic thing is that she was half-right. I did stop wearing straightforwardly Muggle clothes for a while – it's been rather chilly and damp in the castle and I preferred to wear high boots, not shoes, for warmth; you can't wear jeans with suede high boots (I'm no cowboy), so I switched to leather/suede trousers, which naturally led to the top part of my apparel taking a form more appropriate to the bottom part, too, so that in the end I looked almost as much of a refugee from the Middle Ages as any of them, esp. with the fur cloak. BUT THAT WAS NOT BECAUSE UMBRIDGE HAD TOLD ME TO!!! I was so offended I couldn't stop myself answering.

'Professor Umbridge – you're very particular about what other people wear for their classes, for a person who finds it possible to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts in a pink fluffy cardigan,' I said, and knew I shouldn't have before I'd finished. Severus gave me a little thumbs-up when she turned away, but then he's always happy when I'm being horrible.

Night: Better and better. An hour ago I was awakened by S, uncharacteristically wearing a dressing-gown, dishevelled and puffy-eyed. Emergency. All I had time to do by way of dressing was pull on my jeans. We ran (yeah, ran!) to Dumbledore's office and learned there that Arthur Weasley had just been attacked while he was on night duty at the Ministry. Apparently Harry Potter had a sort of vision and saw it happen. When Dumbledore got as far as this, Sev. looked positively horrified.

'You mean...' he said slowly.

'I am afraid so, Severus,' Dumbledore answered earnestly. 'Our fears have been confirmed.'

'But that means—can it work the other way too? Does he know?' Sev. asked. I couldn't make head or tail of it; what I did know was that, for maybe the second time in my life, I could see Sevvers really, really scared. All the harshness and cynicism were gone from his face, and he looked at Dumbledore like a son would look at his father, seeking advice and support. The informal dress helped, too.

'I do not know yet,' Dumbledore answered: he knew what Sev. was on about. 'We shall have to work harder, both of us, to find out.'

At this moment, the door opened and a flushed Prof. McGonagall appeared, wearing a dressing-gown too, of bold tartan.

'Well, I don't know if she believed me,' she panted, 'I told her Arthur Weasley has had a heart attack... that Molly sent word...'

'Thank you, Minerva,' Dumbledore said. 'Now then, Minerva, Severus, Roderick. This is deadly serious. Immediate action is required. Severus knows what to do (Sev. nodded), although maybe you will have to undertake some extra duties soon, when I've given it a thought (Sev. looked sharply up, and his face lost all the mellowness of the minute before. He frowned and looked disgusted and defiant.) Yes, Severus,' Dumbledore smiled wistfully, 'I know it will be unpleasant for you, but if what we fear is true we have no other choice. We shall talk about it later,' he said firmly, cutting across Sev. who had just opened his mouth to say something. Dumbledore looked at me instead. 'Your task, Roderick, will be to stand by Severus and assist him in any way you can. He might need your help.' At this, McGonagall looked as blank as I had done when S had talked to D two minutes earlier, because she doesn't know what sort of help I give Severus. 'You are also likely to be needed in London during the holidays.' I nodded – I knew he meant the Ministry. 'You, Minerva, must do your best to keep things quiet here, at school. We do not want any information leaks.' McGonagall nodded. 'And all of you,' D looked at each of us in turn, 'must do all you can to prevent a certain lady from nosing around in this whole sorry business.' McGonagall gave an angry snort, Sev.'s lips curled in a snarl. I don't know what I looked like, but D smiled and said: 'Yes, I can see you didn't actually need this reminder. All right then,' he got up, 'good night, colleagues.'

We filed out of his office, and when the gargoyle jumped aside to let us out, we bumped into Umbridge, who was standing there in a loud beflowered dressing-gown (the evening was turning into a positive night-time fashion show) and obviously had been trying to listen at the door. McGonagall swept by her without a word, Sev. bowed slightly and said "goodnight" in a voice of such honeyed venom as I'd never heard him use before; I stalked haughtily past, as she eyed my crumpled T-shirt (that I'd slept in), jeans and bare feet with disgust.

I do hope Arthur pulls through. I rather liked him when I met him this summer. He made me recount the whole story of my flight from Durmstrang with all sorts of technical details: How does Muggle post work? How did I buy the ticket for the train? How does the plane stay up? It's nice to have at least someone in the Ministry who's sincerely interested in Muggles.

**December 19, Thursday**

Had my last German class this term. I'm quite happy with the progress they've made. That's the good thing about teaching beginners. They started at nothing, and now they can talk about themselves, their home and studies, the weather and all that, translate simple texts, sing a couple of songs and retell a couple of poems. Very satisfying.

Had my last meeting with my prospective SpAWNs, too. They are also coming along nicely, we're almost prepared for the final showdown in January (I hope!) They've already presented synopses at the Society and got their approvals. I'm not at all worried about Kate, there's a winner if I ever saw one; Anastasia, though, is a different case. I hope she makes it – she's talented but so badly organised!

**December 20, Friday**

Last day of term, yay! Just filled in the last column in the assessment tables and am now enjoying some well-deserved and much-needed "dolce far niente".

Afternoon: It's beginning to look and feel and smell like Christmas round here. After lunch, everyone was busy (I was also conscripted) putting up decorations in their offices and the corridors and the Great Hall and fighting off Peeves who takes especial delight in waiting until you've finished balancing atop a highly tottery stepladder, and then tearing the tinsel you've just spent twenty minutes on off the wall, getting entangled in it, cackling maniacally and blowing loud raspberries. After he'd repeated this amusing trick three times, we exchanged dark looks with Prof. Sprout (whom I'd been helping), then simultaneously hit him with immobilising charms – she used Petrificus Totalus and I the Log Lied, at which he fell down on the floor and lay there quite still, glaring at us, with his tongue still sticking out, tinsel hanging off him randomly. Prof. Sprout took a can of colour-changing spray-paint out of her pocket, we sprayed him gold and silver and shaped the tinsel into wings, then put him up on the wall with a Sticking Charm to serve as an angel, the brim of his hat like a halo around his head. I must confess I felt inordinately happy doing all that.

After dinner: He's still hanging on the corridor wall, Peeves is! Looks like we're in for a peaceful Christmas.

Evening: Just spent two pleasant hours putting charms on those Christmas baubles that I'm planning to hand out as gifts. I've made them larger and bewitched them so that they shimmer different colours and display, alternately, the name of the person I'll give them to and a seasonal greeting in sparkling letters ("Have a Very Happy Christmas... and a Happy New Year... Professor McGonagall!"). I think they'll like them.

**December 21, Saturday**

I've had an idea which should have occurred to me about five months ago. With the present, shall we say, tense situation on the Voldemort front, it might be wise for me to see whether I'm well-prepared for real fighting. I do tend to take my own immunity for granted, but what if some Modern curses do work against warlocks? Schwartz's "morgenstern" did work. Complacency might be fatal. So I think the wise thing to do would be to ask S to duel with me a little during the holidays. He's a good fighter, and it might be good training for him, too.

**December 22, Sunday**

I'm all bruised and aching. Which is, of course, the result of putting the policy described in the previous entry into practice. Sev. loved the idea and he is a good dueller. We found a large enough corridor in the dungeons and practised for nearly two hours. Even though only a few of his curses actually did break through my defences, he had me floored many more times than I'd expected, because the spells that do not actually hurt me still hit me, physically, so that I fell down a few times from sheer ill-preparedness.

So far, we've found out that all my dwimmercraft curses work against him if he doesn't deflect them. My reactions differ: there are several that actually affect me, and there's absolutely no logic to it: I mean compare Sectumsempra (Sev.'s trademark) with the Jelly-Legs Jinx, which he used more as a joke. Some just bounce off, most usefully, Expelliarmus! Most of those movement-impending jinxes only make me stumble, they feel like ropes thrown between my feet; however, if I jump over them, they are useless. We'll go on next week.

Oh, and it's the year's longest night, isn't it? The days will start getting longer and longer from now on. More light, more energy, spring hovering on the horizon! Yes!

**December 23, Monday**

That cunning fox tried to catch me off-guard today. He shot a curse at me while we were both in the staff room. It bounced off and set one of the chairs on fire. The colleagues were somewhat shocked at this sudden display of violence within the workforce (even though they didn't know it was an Unforgivable – Imperius – as S told me afterwards), but we explained that we were just practising in case Death Eaters attacked. Umbridge, of course, gave a loud sigh here and a loaded stare to both of us, but we ignored her. Others were very interested: McGonagall, Flitwick, of course, and Aurora Sinistra too. So we're all meeting in Classroom Ten in half an hour for a duelling show. I think I'll go dressed in my warlock apparel for show-biz value.

Later: It's been a draw.

**December 25, Wednesday**

Happy Christmas! I woke up to find a tottering pile of cards on my table, then a few more arrived during breakfast – from Aunties and cousins (Aunt Vi's sent in her regular pair of woollen socks, canary yellow this year), from the Weasleys, from Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt, from Lupin (!), from Ruthwell, even one from Boris Buchstabe the Runes master at Durmstrang, that was a pleasant surprise (and I never thought of sending him a card, what a ratfink!). There were also four presents: two books, one from Sevvie and the other from Flitwick, a jigsaw puzzle from Aurora and a quill and inkbottle with the Hogwarts crest on them from Dumbledore (regular item for new members of the staff, I presume, but still very nice of him). On my part, I presented Aurora with an elaborate gold-tipped eagle quill and Severus with a pouch of dried roots of a rare golden edelweiss that I'd brought over from Austria. They were both pleased. For the Headmaster, I'd prepared a small bottle of an invigorating cordial (as recommended by the Hogsmeade apothecary).

I hadn't expected Flitwick to give me anything, truth to tell, and it's fortunate I had the little stack of emergency presents that I'd bought two weeks ago. I chose a nice little notebook for Flitwick that has a landscape on the cover which changes according to the season, which I handed on to him after breakfast. He seemed to like it very much, but then he's so enthusiastic about everything that goes on around him!

Then I walked all over the school presenting my colleagues with the baubles. Madam Pince nearly cried, I think it could have been the first time anyone at school gave her anything for Christmas. Mr Filch thanked me rather gruffly (he knows I'm not a fan of Umbridge's, whereas he adores her), but nevertheless put up the bauble in his office, hanging it from the chains on the ceiling. That looked really gruesome! Madam Pomfrey was of course already buried under a heap of presents but was glad to get mine as well.

And yes, in case you're wondering I did present a bauble to Prof. Umbridge as well. I mean, it's the season of goodwill blah blah blah. I just thought it would be really mean not to give her one when even Mr Filch got his.

And we're continuing our duelling practice. In fact it feels just like the old days, when Potter and Black roved the school jinxing everything that moved. Whenever I see Sev. in a corridor (when there are no students around) I try to hex him, and he tries to do the same to me. We're going through the whole gamut of curses (me using both dwimmercraft and Modern spells), including those stupid childish ones like making vegetables grow out of people's ears. I must admit it does in fact have a marvellous effect on one's physique and general alertness to be always prepared for an attack.

**December 29, Sunday**

Today was this year's last duelling day. Sevvie says I've shagged him out! Also that he's got work to do for the Order and that he can't concentrate expecting a jinx from me all the time. I'll be moving to London myself until the end of the holidays on January 1 (SpAWN defences; also, D wants me to hang around the International Dept a bit again). But I think we've exhausted the list of curses, anyway.

So, the result is:

I am affected properly by

- Sectumsempra

- Jelly-Legs Jinx

- Impedimenta

- Incendio (wasn't a pleasant experience finding out this one!)

- and – humiliatingly – Wingardium Leviosa

- and probably Avada Kedavra since we didn't try it, for obvious reasons.

Cruciatus gives a nasty burning feeling where it hits, but nothing more. (I'd experienced it before, at the same hand, it should be noted, so I wasn't exactly surprised it didn't work, but that memorable occurrence took place thirteen years ago so I'm glad nothing has changed.)

Conjunctivitis, Stupefy, Expelliarmus, Incarcerous, Silencio, Confundus, Imperius just bounce off.

Levicorpus, Tarantallegra and Petrificus make me stumble, or fall if I'm careless.

All the others just don't work at all. Visually, the beams just go out when they touch me, with no noticeable effect apart from a push, which is stronger or weaker depending on the power of the curse. It must be admitted, though, that Sev. soon discovered that if he hits me in the face the flash blinds me for a second, during which he can use something that works. Well, he found it out after a prolonged duelling session: I hardly think that in a real fight, there'll be so much time for an adversary to analyse my reactions.

The staff stood up to the test admirably, too. Accio merely tugs it half-heartedly (har har!). Reducto doesn't work at all (well, it is indestructible).

Not bad!

**December 30, Monday **

I keep exchanging harassed owls frantically with Kate and Anastasia. I knew it! Anastasia's had half her notes drowned in a cauldron or something. Just like her. Let's hope she makes it in time. There's only about a week to go. Kate's ready but understandably nervous.

**December 31, Tuesday **

(January 1, 4:16 AM, to be more precise) Saw the old year off in style. Since most of the students are gone for the holidays, the teachers seem to be feeling much more relaxed and informal (even with U around). We decided to hold a little New Year's Eve party in the staff room. Everyone was there, even Trelawney and Hagrid, even though Tr is on probation and Hagrid's not a favourite of our Inquisitrix either. Actually, it did look like we're about to expect a new Educational Decree soon, stating that all teacher parties can only be held with the supreme approval of the Inquisitor, or even Minister for Magic. She definitely looked cheesed off at first at our having uncontrolled fun. She then decided that sulking in the corner wouldn't look good, apparently, and joined the merrymaking, but you could see she was keeping up appearances.

The party was great. When we gathered at eleven, Dumbledore proposed a toast, we all had a drink and then just sat chatting and eating mince pies, until it was nearly twelve. Then, when the enormous clock had chimed midnight, D led us in a very loud chorus of Auld Lang Syne. Then there was the cheering and the letting off of crackers and the jingling of champagne glasses. Festive spirit reigned. Then we drank and ate some more, and then someone suggested dancing. Dear old Flitwick squeaked: "What a good idea!" then disappeared and reappeared five minutes later levitating an enormous barrel organ, which could play almost any tune in the world, as it transpired. You say the name or hum the tune, it spins the handle for a few seconds and starts playing it, very decently arranged, and your only task is just to start dancing/singing along on cue. It was great fun. We moved all the furniture out of the way and danced and sang well into the small hours. Even U took part in the dancing, although nobody but our ever-forbearing Headmaster would stand up with her. I danced almost all night with Aurora.

Not feeling at all sleepy, as usual when I've had a drink. Which is damn stupid since I won't sleep tomorrow anyway. So I think I'll get into bed and read.


	5. January

**January 1, Wednesday**

Full moon

Excellent. Excellent. Bathsheba has actually hinted at something like this, but what a thing to spring on a bloke on January 1. She's retiring! I'm taking all her classes! Nice start of a year, now I'll have to spend the next two weeks revising instead of relaxing! I tried not to look too knocked out at the news, and she meant it for the best, like, "here's my belated Christmas present to you, Roderick!" Well, I take her point, it is a promotion, and it does mean two hundred Galleons a month from now on, but still. Sent an owl to Egil to say that my work will suffer serious slow-down next term. Can't imagine him being too happy about it.

**January 2, Thursday**

London, Gillingham St: The year's just started and I'm full of worry already. The first cause of anxiety is stated above, the second is the SpAWN presentations tomorrow and on the 4th. We've got all the papers in order, but I'm still nervous cos obviously it's down to the report itself rather than all the accompanying research. I've done all I could, it's now the girls' turn.

**January 4, Saturday**

Society of Ancient Tongues, SpAWN reports

Again, I thank my lucky stars and intuition for taking the diary along. I don't think I've ever been to a more boring session here. Unfortunately, all Ancient Tongues sit together during these winter reports, so I've already been stuck here for three hours listening to endless reports. Anastasia's was the only one on Runes (Kate's was at yesterday's session, not even remotely as boring as today's), and it has been followed by two and a half hours of complete irrelevance. I even sneaked out for a while during a totally incomprehensible report on pronouns in Etruscan, had a walk in the courtyard, even popped out into the Muggle Holborn and had a browse through a bookshop; then run into Ruthwell on my way back and talked to him (he invited me for a cup of tea on Monday); then returned forty minutes later to find them still engaged in heated debate!!! There are people I barely know on the panel, and they are full of remarks and questions on all those technicalities of the vowel system of the language of Linear A and things. I'm dying of boredom. However, I'm stuck here, because I must sign the protocol and obviously I would like to know the result that my supervision has brought today. (Yesterday, Kate triumphed.) And I must say I'm slightly nervous, cos there were bits in Anastasia's report that are better left with no questions asked about them, and of course knowing Anastasia it should come as no surprise that it all had to be remade almost from scratch at the last moment after all her notes were accidentally destroyed, and it is slightly lacking in originality... OK, there were almost no questions asked, but still. Well. At least they didn't question the actual method and object of the research. The decision will be made at the end of the meeting, which seems to be hours and hours away.

Poor Ruthwell had the same worries once, when I was a Magiae Doctor candidate. Twice, actually! We did have a spot of trouble, too, converting my Old Magic diploma from Uppsala into the British SpAWN, I remember.

The amazing thing is that they understand all this. I feel my own linguistic skills and intellectual baggage sadly inadequate. When they ask, as they do after each report, "Any questions from the audience?" I just think... to be honest, I don't think anything at all. My mind is completely blank. And then someone puts their hand up and asks a question as obscure as the report has been. Nothing of what took place yesterday prepared me for the agonising, desperate tedium of this. And the terms! "Layered morphology" – what is that supposed to mean?!

I don't know how to amuse myself apart from keeping writing obsessively. I do feel like a bottom-of-the-class primary schoolboy who's shading in the squares in his notebook while all the other kids are doing complicated sums which are way, way above his head – so much so that there's no point in even trying to catch up.

Well, even if 'my' reports don't make it to the actual MaD stage (and I don't think either of the two actually wants to carry on – I think they're quite content with getting their SpAWNs), they will be ready to run off into the great wide world whistling happily and get some real work done, unlike me! Maybe it's better to stay out of the bloody academic world when you've got a posh tag to attach to your name.

We've got through three people so far. Five to go. It's already half past one, and we started at ten thirty.

Hang on, it's a break.

Home: Oh joy. They realised it couldn't go on like this and announced the first results (top grade for us, yet again!) during the break, so I congratulated Anastasia and went, missing the ceremonial nosh-up. I couldn't face any more of that, especially in the state I'm in – I'm suffering something fatal from a stuffy nose. Caught a cold somewhere or something – I don't know. The fact is that even the Pepper-up Potion doesn't help. I got desperate and went to Boots at Victoria Station, bought some Vicks but that doesn't help either! The oxygen supply gets so low at times I just sit there with my mouth open in a state of vegetable-like stupor. And my voice!.. I'm very happy it's the holidays (perversely – what's the use of being ill during holidays?) because I disgust even myself with the way I sound and look, with my eyes puffed up and leaking tears all the time. Also, it gives this detestable effect of magnifying every sound one makes in one's mouth in one's own ears out of all proportion – and me such a stickler for quiet eating, it's a torture listening to myself gurgling. Best to have an early night today, perhaps.

**January 6, Monday**

Thank heaven, my stuffy nose is much better today, so I didn't feel like a complete moron at Ruthwell's. We had a very pleasant chat over a cup of tea. He's completely the same, he doesn't change at all, and I'm still as fanatical about him as I ever was!

**January 7, Tuesday**

Staying at home and tending to my cold. It's losing ground steadily.

**January 8, Wednesday**

Right. Don't know if this will have any lasting influence, but I've just spent twenty minutes talking to Sirius Black. I had to nip round the HQ today (to report on my findings in the International Co-operation dept), and of course he was there. He looked sulky and depressed, and definitely did bring a jarring note into the pleasurable Christmas—New Year—holidays bustle created by Molly Weasley in the kitchen of Gr.P. He was being quite silly, in fact: when Molly conscripted me to help her with the meal, which I did since I had nothing better to do and was meaning to stay for dinner, he sat there, obviously bored to death, tilting his chair back and letting it fall again, and when he heard Molly ask me he said something along the lines of "yeah, Molly, you make him help in the kitchen, I would think this is the most appropriate work for old Inkfingers". I thought I'd had enough of this. I asked him what his problem was concerning me. (I mean he was happy enough to see me when I first came in July!) He answered, predictably, that the problem's name was Severus Snape. OK, I said: but why? Doesn't he work for the Order? Black grunted. I know how you feel, I said, after all the reckless things you used to do, having to sit holed up here is no fun at all. But being jealous is quite pointless, as I'm sure you know. You have to resign yourself to the fact that he, Snivellus, is being more useful than you – for the time being, and that's definitely going to change soon, the moment real action begins. You're a man of action. He looked at me as if I were mad and said, you're a real turncoat aren't you? I'm a turnskin, I said, never was and never will be a turncoat. I'm just realistic. He said:

'Realistic? I thought you're supposed to be friends with Snape – how come you're saying I'll be better in action?'

'Cos being a friend doesn't mean being blind,' I said. 'He's perfect as a spy. He's good at quiet, meticulous work. You're not. But you're good at waging war, and soon you'll have your chance. And anyway, I didn't mean to discuss him with you – all I want to say is that you must get used to the idea that the Order does not consist only of people who like you or whom you like. It's not a mutual appreciation society it's a resistance force. I don't like Fletcher, for example.' Molly gave an appreciative sniff in the background. 'But I'm prepared to work with him and be at least civil to him, knowing that we're doing the same job and are in the same boat, Voldemort being after all our skins equally. Why can't you be civil to me and to Snape? Why can't you put the past behind you?'

He stared when I said "Voldemort". He said:

'Well, I'll agree to be civil with you – you may be a weirdo but at least you've got your brains about you. And I can see you're ready to be civil with me, in your turn. But Snape's a different matter. He's never even tried to be civil with me.'

'He's as civil as he gets with you,' I said. 'Moreover, yes, he is a different matter. It's pretty hard to try and be nice to a man who once tried to kill you.'

Molly gasped and let go of a spoon, which fell into the sink with a clang. Black was silent. He was looking at me, his lips were moving as if he was trying to find a counter-argument. Then he burst out:

'But that was twenty years ago! I wouldn't, I—I mean—hey, but look, why don't you go and tell him to put the past behind him?'

'You've only got your own dislike of him to get over,' I said. 'And the main thing is that you're essentially a good man, Black – you're a good man and it's easier for you to forget!' I suddenly got very emotional. 'You're supposed to be courageous and noble and generous and all of those things. Come on, be it!' They were both staring at me now. I stopped in mid-rant and felt my ears grow hot. 'OK,' I said, 'as I said, I don't want to discuss him and you. I want to discuss me and you. I know you don't like me, and I don't pretend to be an admirer of yours – but that's no reason to be enemies, especially in a situation like what we're having. I'm not asking for friendship – I'm only asking for a cease-fire. When we've won,' I added, 'we'll be able to go on disliking each other vociferously for the rest of our lives. But until then, Sirius, please?'

He looked at me for a long, long time and said slowly, 'You think you're being very noble and wise, do you?'

Oh dear. 'No,' I said. 'I don't pretend to either title. It's just I'm better off than you are and therefore I've got a clearer head. I haven't been to Azkaban and I'm not imprisoned in a house I hate the sight of, so I'm more reasonable.'

Black gave me a long look again, then got up.

'All right,' he said. 'We'll sign an armistice. But I'll set conditions. Since I'm the weaker party,' he sneered, 'and you want so much to be generous. You mustn't provoke me – you mustn't stick out for Snape when I'm around.'

'All right by me,' I said. 'It will be easiest to achieve if you don't mention him to me.'

'OK,' he said. 'I'll try. I'll talk about the weather when you're there.' Then he turned on his heel and left the kitchen.

I could see he wasn't content, but I hope he'll be man enough to keep this arrangement. I can't pretend to like him, but I really do feel sorry for him (at times when I don't see him, usually), and in a detached and abstract way I know he's in fact a brave and loyal person. It's just plain stupid – destructive, too, in our case – to have his bravery and loyalty wasted in endless feuds with Sev. and me. As well as my loyalty and – what was it? – shrewdness and sharp mind, I think.

What will Sev. say? I don't actually give a monkey's. We're grown men both.

**January 9, Thursday**

Sevvie's birthday! I've got a present for him in the drawer here, it's been sitting there, waiting for the occasion, for six months!

Later, back at school: He liked the antique Potioneer's Atlas. (Well, he actually said, "Wow, Roderick..." and tried to smile and ran his hand lovingly over the cover before opening it. I was so happy.) My present was the only one he got today, as usual, because he doesn't like anyone to know it's his birthday, and never even celebrates it with the other teachers as the others do. I strongly suspect that me and Dumbledore are the only two people in the entire world aware of his birthday, now that his parents are both gone. I wonder why Lucius Malfoy never gives him presents though, S's supposed to be a friend of the family, isn't he?

**January 11, Saturday**

Poor Severus. I knew something was wrong at about ten in the morning, later he explained: after all that's been happening round here, and the attack on Arthur Weasley and everything, Dumbledore thought it best that Harry Potter should be taught Occlumency, but thinks that it would be unwise for him to do it himself since – for obvious reasons – he would not like to have a direct contact with Voldemort. So he chose the next best man to do it – Severus. That's what they were talking about that night, in fact. The poor sod is seething with rage. I told him he should feel flattered, but it didn't wash, of course. He had a fight with Black while in London, too. So my reasoning hasn't worked. Maybe I should've worked on Sev. too? But then I know full wellhe's incurable.

Looks like Lupin is the only person among us who's actually grown up.

Oh and, Arthur Weasley's back home, right as rain. Very good. We won't let a lousy snake snatch people out of our ranks!

**January 12, Sunday **

Hmmm. Most enlightening. Sev. is still working on his fury about giving private lessons to Harry Potter, and today, he raised the issue again in the evening, as we sat over a glass of wine in his dungeon, drinking the loving memory of the holidays. Then he started recounting yesterday's Black instalment again, I tried to say things like "I know he's a bullying git but he's been to Azkaban and he's locked up in a house he hates and he knows he's being almost useless to the Order so why can't you be a little more condescending to him and grow up, for Merlin's sake", to which he said that he was amazed at me of all people trying to stand up for Black and didn't I know that it was quite beyond him (Sev.) to stop hating the man who nearly killed him (This is what I mean by us knowing what the other man's thinking. Cf. above, what I'd said to Black) and was not punished for that. We recalled The Joke, and I said, again, that I could never understand why S had fallen into the trap in the first place. It was quite plain that Black was provoking him, whatever induced Sev. to think Black would actually want Lupin's secret revealed to him? And here I got a somewhat startling revelation.

Sev. had just poured himself another glass and paused, holding it.

'I'll tell you something,' he said slowly and I could see he was struggling to say whatever he was going to say. 'I know I'll probably regret this before I've finished talking. But...' He placed his glass carefully on the table and I saw his fingers were trembling slightly. Then he looked straight at me. 'Do you think I believed him for a second? Do you think I didn't understand that he was provoking me, that I would learn nothing about Lupin and probably risk expulsion or injury? I knew that he was daring me to take up this challenge. And I did. Because I thought... I thought if I did, they would respect me and — let me be one of them.' I made a noise here, and he hastened to shut me up. 'Yes, I know what you're thinking. But that's what I thought. I envied them, yes! and hated them, because I was no worse than they were – as brave, as bright, quite as ready to break rules – and yet I was despised, just because I didn't have Black's good looks or Potter's Quidditch skills. And I did have this idea that once I've proved that I'm not a coward, they might accept me. Deep inside, I yearned to belong there. You'd been around me for some time, but... It was only when it had sunk in what terrible fate I'd just escaped, and when I'd seen you standing there in your dressing-gown, pale, dishevelled, shaking with rage, yelling at me, ready to beat me to a pulp for being so stupid and putting my life in danger...' He paused again, his eyes not on me but on the embers in the grate.

'Well, I suspected this,' I said, and he stared. 'I've always said they should've taken you on the gang instead of the bastard Pettigrew.'

He looked relieved, and even made an attempt at a smile. Then we noticed it was very late and I went up to my chambers. He looked almost happy when I left him. He's probably wanted me to know this for some time. Well, I guessed myself, anyway.

Yeah, I remember that as if it had happened a year ago. It was a full moon, and as usual, I was spending the night doing something in the common room – reading or writing an essay, I don't remember now – and as I sat in my beloved window-seat with my knees drawn up, wearing pyjamas and cosily wrapped in a thick dressing-gown, I could see the Whomping Willow sway slightly in the breeze. Then, at the usual time, Madam Pomfrey appeared, rushing along to the Willow with Remus Lupin in tow. She took him to the Willow and he dived into the passage, which I already knew about (actually, I found out about Lupin in my first months at the school. The moment I learned about him being a werewolf, I couldn't help feeling a sort of affinity with him, so it never occurred to me to mention this to anyone. That's why I was so sorry that he was part of the gang that persecuted Sev. I stopped feeling sorry when he first jinxed me, though. Although, truth to tell, he always was the quiet one. Sev. usually fought Black and/or Potter, and I fought Pettigrew; Lupin was rather more mature by the time Sev. and me started hanging out together.) Anyway, I saw the Willow freeze, as it did every month; Lupin disappear and Madam P walk quickly back, and then a spidery shadow darted across the lawn. The Willow had already unfrozen, but the figure did something to it so that it froze again; then it wavered before the entrance to the tunnel, then plunged in. And then there was a second shadow, which came hurtling after it, shouting. As I made out what it was shouting, my blood curdled in my veins, because it was "Stop, Snape, stop!" I dropped my book or parchment and pressed my face to the glass, and seconds later I saw them struggling out, fighting, shouting. And then I heard a faint, distant howl. It was, as I knew full well, the howl of a werewolf transforming. And then, for a second, I lost touch with reality: my mind's eye was filled with gory images of murder and destruction, as I saw, in a flash, a werewolf ripping open the throat of a boy – but not my brother – Severus. I scrambled off the window-seat and ran, ran downstairs, to the entrance hall, where there were voices and commotion and torches, as Mr Filch and Madam Pomfrey stared aghast at Potter dragging Sev. through the front door, still struggling, shouting abuse. My knees nearly gave way under me with rage, I was shaking uncontrollably, I pushed past Mr Filch and, as Potter released Sev. and he dropped panting on the floor, I started shouting. I think I even hit him a couple of times. Then I heard more voices and someone pulled me away, still shaking, and I saw that Professors McGonagall and Slughorn had joined the scene. There's a haze over the next few minutes, but I know I came to my senses in the Headmaster's study, which was packed full: Dumbledore, McGonagall, Slughorn, Flitwick, Mr Filch, Madam Pomfrey, Potter, Black, Sev. and myself. There was a long argument, more shouting, and Black and Sev. had to be restrained forcibly from strangling each other; there was the taking off of points and the assignment of detentions, and then Dumbledore made me and Sev. promise we'd never tell anyone about Lupin's secret and what had happened that night.

And that was it. The episode was just hushed up completely. That's something I still find it hard to forgive Dumbledore for. Anyone would have thought that deliberately trying to kill a fellow student was enough to get one expelled; but no, after a month's worth of detentions Black & Potter were roving the school again, as ever they had done. Their reputations were deemed more important than Snape's life. That was just so incredibly unfair. And I do think it was this whole business that first nudged Sev. into the direction he took afterwards. At least, with the Dark Lord, he was respected and no-one got away with insulting and mistreating him. That is probably why he didn't notice that he was ruining himself by being a Death Eater at first.

Right, enough of that. It's the start of term tomorrow, or, to be more precise, today. Better go and get some sleep.

**January 13, Monday**

Ha. Well, I don't know – again – if I'm offended or relieved. My Runes class (my class, I call them, although they are all mine now), the fifth-years, numbers four people less now. Malfoy, his bodyguards and Pansy Parkinson did not come to class, then I saw them before dinner and asked them where they had been, and Malfoy – speaking for all of them, of course, the little Führer that he is – ummed and ahhed and finally came out with, they don't think they can cope with all the classes they take, what with the OWLs coming up and everything, and that they have subjects enough for the proper number of exams without Runes. But he did look decidedly shifty. I told him that he should've informed me, at least through his Head of House. But well, sod him. Good riddance, actually.

What's more of a problem is the number of classes I have:

beginners S

beginners R

beginners G, mercifully combined with beginners H

fourth-years S

fourth-years R

fourth-years G

fourth-years H

fifth-years ("my group")

and German!!!

How on earth am I gonna learn their names, even?! Nearly all weekdays have classes now:

Monday: 5 yr  
Tuesday: 4 yr R, 4 yr S  
Wednesday: 3 yr R, 3 yr S, 3 yr G=H  
Thursday: 4 yr H, 4 yr G

Looking at them, they are really weirdly arranged. And so many! All of them doubles, too!.. I suppose it's the result of the unequal struggle between physical time and the number of courses offered at this school. I've been flicking through the diary – looks like I mention this in the very first entry. I wouldn't have been so tolerant and amiable on this issue then if I'd been set all the classes I've been given now, I suppose!

Oh, and I'll obviously have to sacrifice one of the German classes, otherwise I'll have no time at all to call my own. I feel like sacrificing both, actually, but since I've got them interested and involved, I can't just throw in the towel and let them down like this. "Duty calls", eh, Rod? Stupid git.

Evening: Riight. Sev.'s just been. Malfoy and Co. stopped going to my classes because his father told him not to, because Umbridge told him that I was an undesirable character to mix with. Sev. called me an idiot. I rather think he's right.

**January 14, Tuesday**

Dear, dear. There was a mass breakout from Azkaban yesterday. Ten Death Eaters, no less! The Prophet was full of the usual tripe – "We think it likely that these individuals, who include Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader" was a typical comment – but even those who know that Black is on our side understand it's deadly serious. I asked Sev. about these people and he says they are really horrible, the really devoted followers of the Dark Lord. Well, suffice it to say that this Bellatrix Lestrange woman was one of those who tortured my unfortunate Longbottom relatives into insanity.

Why do I keep writing "Dark Lord"?! Bloody Severus! But then I haven't thought of a name to call him yet.

Had my first meeting with the third-years. As always, I was very apprehensive; as always, I feel completely inadequate. Very much hope I'll be able to co-operate with them.

**January 15, Wednesday**

I've lost count on how many times I've used the word "unbelievable" today, but THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE!!!

This is what we all saw on the staff room notice board this morning. I stole it from there, I'm sure she'll have more to pin up, this is really worth preserving for the future generations:

BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS

Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information

that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach.

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-six.

Signed:Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor

I think everyone thought I'd gone mad, because when I'd read it, I started laughing. I just couldn't help it. Not that I intend to comply with this, of course. I just wonder why Dumbledore doesn't do something about it?

**January 16, Thursday**

Break. Staff room. Just had the first class with another new group, the third-years. They were very definitely scared of me, I don't know why. I wonder if the Slytherins had told them something nasty about me? Or maybe I am a monster but am not aware of that? Sevvie doesn't know he's a monster, for that matter, he thinks he's doing everything all right and being very fair and unbiased.

Suddenly I'm looking forward to going to my Slytherin class after the break! At least I know them.

Later: Oh bugger. I'm cracking! One free period, and then the next third-year class. Wonder if they'll be scared of me as well. Hope I'll cope. I'm developing a nasty headache, too, my own, nothing to do with Severus.

Later still: I'm scared. It was boring! I'm bored by Runes! Gaaaah! Oh dear oh dear, I hope it's just a temporary feeling. I hope it's just the strain from having to do about five times as much work as I had to do last term.

**January 17, Friday**

The ban to talk to students has lead to some rare fun. Example of typical conversation in corridor these days:

Me (seeing Prof. Flitwick approach, and choosing a strategic point near a large congregation of students, in a very loud voice): Good morning, Prof. Flitwick! Have you heard that the Ministry are now centring their inquiries on Hogsmeade?

Flitwick (grinning hugely, in an equally loud, squeaky voice): Are they, Roderick? My word! So the poor children might be denied their weekend trips to the village? And have you heard? The new Durmstrang Headmaster apparently invited the escaped Death Eaters to stay at the place! I have an old friend there who wrote to me last week!

Me: What incredible impertinence!

Sev. (joining us, in a loud voice most unlike him): No, no, colleagues, they will never go there as long as the Dark Lord is in this country, as we know he is.

Flitwick: Excuse me, colleagues, I must dash.

(exit Flitwick)

Me: By the way, Prof. Snape, I've looked up that most useful book of powerful defensive jinxes and their use in the combat situation, which is located in Row Seven, Shelf Eighty-three in the library, that you mentioned, and found it very instructive!

Sev.: Yes, Prof. Heald, if ever you meet an escaped Death Eater, they'll come in very handy.

Me: Well, good day to you, Professor Snape.

Sev.: Good day to you too, Professor Heald.

(exeunt Snape and Heald, against a background of dozens of students discussing what they've just heard.)

I love being subversive!

However, no conversations of any importance can now be held in the staff room, which is constantly poisoned by the presence of La Umbridge. Actually, this woman is quite amazing. I sometimes think she's mastered the art of being in two (or more) places at the same time. She finds time to give her classes and to be present at every Care of Magical Creatures and every Divination. And to spend a hell of a lot of time in the staff room, ostentatiously marking essays and shooting us all long, attentive glances when we enter or talk. She hasn't said a word more to me about my clothes, although I've now taken to wearing jeans every day just to annoy her. We all feel sorry for Trelawney and Hagrid. I mean yeah, they may be substandard teachers (although, come to think of it, I remember witnessing a lesson on Thestrals in November, flying around the Forest to train the arm, and apart from his thick accent, it was quite enjoyable and informative – before U showed up, that is. Not that I could see the Thestrals, but some of the students could, and the rest were fascinated anyway. I wish I'd stayed longer and watched U's performance, but I left out of pure embarrassment when I realised Hagrid was being put down.) I lost my point. Doesn't matter. I was going to say that all normal teacher-to-teacher conversation is now held exclusively in corridors, including the on-the-run meetings of the Order. Looks slightly stupid, big grown-up people huddled together at corners and whispering excitedly.

Also, today is Father's birthday. I spent a long time looking at the photo in the evening, wondering at how I manage to look both like him and like Mum. I've reached his age now. He is forever thirty-four in that picture.

I only hope I'm worthy of him.

**January 19, Sunday**

Why is it always like that? Same thing every year: You've just had a whole long holiday, but the first weekend of the term feels like a huge boon, just as if you'd been working non-stop for a month before it. Yesterday, I actually heard someone say during breakfast: "Oh, Saturday at last!" "Yeah," thought I fervently, and then realised it was January the bloody eighteenth!

And, since we're all so tired, it's been a very quiet weekend with no interesting events whatsoever.

**January 20, Monday**

I thought facing the weekly staff meetings after the holidays would be a less dreary business. I was wrong.

Finally arrived to a conclusion with regard to the special projects which are a necessary part of the curriculum. I think I now know how I'll deal with them. I'll set them to the advanced groups (that is, three, four and five), in the form of either a long essay on various obscure Runic problems OR a seriously long translation (say, five rolls of parchment?) OR a long witchery-song of their own!

**January 21, Tuesday**

Resumed German. Spent the lesson getting them to remember the things we've learned last term, and surprisingly, the knowledge had not been totally erased from their brains during the holidays. And they were really disappointed we'd only have one class a week from now on. It's sort of touching.

Actually, the good thing to do there would be to think of a book for them to read. I think they can cope with something simple, for children. Maybe something by Michael Ende? We could also play some theatre, the kids at Durmstrang loved it. They liked a bit of teacher-approved wildness at a lesson. I enjoyed it too, truth to tell. Dearie me, I'm so incredibly lazy!

**January 22, Wednesday**

Report arrived from Kitezh. All's going well, it seems. I got a sudden burst of empathy with them as I unpacked the 50-page report and thought of all the mad paperwork I've had to produce so far – we're no better for them than Umbridge is for me. I think I'll write to the Committee and suggest that the reports be made biannual from now on. They seem to be getting along nicely. They do still use paper instead of parchment, but then is it a sign of their lack of funds or their progressive attitude?.. both, I imagine. Kitezh is in a unique position in this respect. Tradition is great, but starting again from scratch has its huge assets, too. They write that their main problem is with public relations: apparently there's a large number of Muggles in Russia today who profess themselves to be wizards!

**January 23, Thursday**

Staff room: Just been looking through the list of my new third-years, Gryffindors, before the class, and only just realised: there's a boy there called Pythagoras Vector! It somehow didn't occur to me that some of the teachers have children who are likely to be students at this very moment. Maybe he's a nephew or something though... I'll ask her. Ah, here she is! Yes, it is her son!

Later: That question of mine sparked off a discussion, so now I know exactly who those children are. The thing is, all the kids belong to my female colleagues, and all of them except Pythagoras Vector have names different from their mothers'! Either my colleagues started teaching before they got married and had their children, and afterwards decided it was too much of a hassle changing their last names to those of their husbands'; or, they are all convinced feminists and just don't want to be known by their husbands' names.

Let's see: so there's Pythagoras Vector, Prof. Vector's son, year 2; Flora Green, Prof. Sprout's daughter, year 7; Quintus Hale, Madam Pomfrey's youngest son, year 7; and Petula Cross, Prof. Trelawney's niece, year 5. And of course I've known before that Bathsheba's daughter Barbara had graduated last year and is now married and awaiting a child of her own, which was why Bathsheba actually resigned. Madam Hooch's son, Horton, also graduated, quite a long time ago.

It's funny though, looks like only Professors Vector and Sprout and Madam Pomfrey are actually married round here (Bathsheba's married too, but she doesn't count now). I'm single. Sevvie's single. Flitwick's single. Aurora's single (why??). Fergus Merrythought is single (not for long, I'm sure, but as of this moment). Binns doesn't count, but he was single before he died, too. Umbridge seems to be single. Dumbledore's single. McGonagall's single. Hagrid's single. Trelawney's single. Madam Pince is single. Even Mr Filch is single.

And Madam Hooch is hovering in between because she's divorced.

**January 24, Friday**

And I'm very glad it is Friday. Having so many classes definitely takes some getting used to.

**January 25, Saturday**

It still gives me enormous pleasure to go down to the gold vault and take gold out. It's just so convenient, and if, as I usually do, you leave some of your salary in the locker and don't take it all out, there's this pleasing sensation of never being short of cash. Just been down there, I'm planning a Hogsmeade outing tomorrow with Aurora. We did agree to go book-shopping tomorrow about five weeks ago, and now she says she's got time. Lovely!

**January 26, Sunday**

Found myself a new entertainment. After Aurora asked me how I'd found her Christmas present as we were having a cup of tea at Madam Puddifoot's today after having spent almost an hour in the bookshop, I guiltily remembered that I'd put it behind my desk and completely forgotten about it. I opened it as soon as I got back. It's a huge jigsaw puzzle, three thousand pieces, a large celestial chart with all sorts of pictures, allegorical figures etc. I decided to start working on it straight away. I think my table's big enough to accommodate it. Looks like I'll have a lot of fun with it.

**January 27, Monday**

Bloody hell. I knew that I'm really good at making trouble before, of course, but I keep finding yet untapped reserves of disaster in my life.

I'll try to describe it coherently, although my hands are still shaking slightly and I feel so embarrassed I'm not sure I want to commit this to parchment. I have to be honest with myself though.

It all began harmlessly enough with me taking the OWL students to read and interpret some runic inscriptions in the dungeons. All right, so we've had the lesson and it's been very good, albeit we all froze our bottoms off there, and so here's us heading back to the ground floor. Most of the group have run forward not to miss lunch, and the only ones who are lingering behind are me, putting out the torches etc, and Hermione Granger who's found yet another question to ask me. (Why is it always she who's present when I'm making a fool of myself?!) I've put out the torches and am answering her question as we walk in a leisurely manner up the corridor. Suddenly, there's a squeak and some commotion around a corner, and as we hurry forward we see two scared-looking first-years, both in tears. I ask them what's wrong, and HG slips easily into her Prefect part (although they were Slytherins) and starts to comfort them. From their stammering replies, we understand that they've just been frightened by a Boggart they unwittingly let out of the closet in the corridor. "That's all right," I say, "it's only a Boggart, you'll learn about them, they are quite harmless etc etc". And then I get the bright idea that, since I'm a teacher, I must show them how to deal with Boggarts. I summon my wand (there's no dwimmercraft spell against Boggarts), strike up the warrior pose and ask HG to open the door of the closet. And then...

And then I see, lumbering at me with his wand aimed right at my heart, a laughing masked Death Eater. I just stood there petrified. How, how could I have been so stupid?! I've seen it before, I should have known what it would be! I wasn't scared by the Boggart of course, because I didn't think it really was him for a second, but it completely threw me off-balance. Then, as if in slow motion, I saw him raise his left hand to remove his mask, still laughing, at it was only then that I understood what would happen next, also that I'd been standing with my wand thrust forward for about an hour already, and I shouted "Riddikulus! Riddikulus!" and the Boggart's cloak was covered with large pink flowers and it disappeared, Heaven be praised, before it could show its face.

Dimly, I heard the first-years' thanks and half-registered them scurrying away along the corridor. Then I realised I was sitting on the floor, my back against the wall, panting as if I'd just run a mile, staring at the gaping closet. HG was standing by my side, looking perturbed. I got up and pocketed my wand, feeling how icy cold my hands had turned. Then we walked slowly to the Hall, HG looking into my face worriedly every now and then. We were both silent. Then she said:

'That Boggart – it's wasn't just any Death Eater, was it, sir? It was—'

'Professor Snape, yes,' I said. Then I remembered another Boggart that took this shape and suddenly saw how funny it all was. 'I expect it runs in the family,' I added, and couldn't help smiling. She smiled back and looked relieved. I knew she'd never breathe a word of this to anyone.

I've seen it before, how could I have been so stupid? I saw it back in July when I came back to my flat. It was the first thing I saw when I opened the door under the kitchen-sink, Snape clambering out of there and murdering me. I was scared then, and only came to my senses when I saw the green beam of Avada Kedavra touch my chest and disappear together with the Boggart, leaving me unscathed.

My deepest fear. My deepest, most horrible fear. It is that Sev. should leave the right side and become a Death Eater again. Or if it turns out he has been working for them all along, as some people think. That will mean all my efforts – my whole life, really – wasted. It won't matter if he tries to kill me or anyone else then. I suppose this part, this wand aimed at me, is sort of metaphorical. Generally, I'm not afraid of being murdered, by him or anyone else.

He's hijacked my whole life, all my hopes, all my fears.

I hope to the high heavens he never learns about this episode.

**January 28, Tuesday**

My hope was in vain, of course. Since the two first-years were Slytherins, the tale of the Boggart fight was known to S by yesterday evening. (And to everyone else by this morning – even Mrs Norris came round to ask me what I meant by chasing Death Eaters along school corridors! Look, I didn't drink dragon blood to be kicked around by a cat!) Since then, he's been ignoring me studiously. I didn't even notice at first, because I didn't think I'd done anything to cause this, and only paid attention to his demeanour when he looked right through me as an answer to a direct question. Well, yes, quite understandable. After all my fraternising with students, I've gone and committed a crime even worse – I've demonstrated my fear, hence, my weakness to them. It's so against all that he believes to be the right teacher behaviour that he might never speak to me again, actually. He's angry, which I can feel. Paradoxically, I'm quite happy about it. Thing is, he doesn't know the Boggart was impersonating him. He's angry at me for having been stupid. So he cares, after all. Sometimes. He wants me to succeed, to be (what he thinks to be) a good teacher, and here I am just doing everything wrong as he sees it.

**January 29, Wednesday**

Whoops. He did know it was him. He guessed. He's just left here.

He's been ostracising me again all day, but I've been ignoring him back. I wasn't feeling guilty for a change: I did what any teacher would have done, even he would have done it. So I've just kept my equilibrium, while he's apparently been working up a temper, which he came to pour over my hapless head half an hour ago. One thing he couldn't accuse me of, though, was wilfully embarrassing him by producing a Snape-shaped Boggart (no-one knows save me, him and Hermione Granger: the young Slytherins didn't realise it was their Head of House behind that mask) and "parading it all over the school" (his words). But he's spent all his wrath in shouting at me, so he left more or less pacified.

**January 30, Thursday**

Yess! I've had a letter from Rune Röksten, this guy I met in Uppsala. I wrote to him in summer, mentioning that I would be teaching Runes, and he writes – apart from the fact that he supports the Order fully – that he's also doing Runes – he's actually teaching at the Uppsala Old Magic Institute! He's quite eager to share/soak up some experience. Hey, why don't I invite him over to give some lectures to my students? Yes, great idea, I'll write to him immediately. And, of course, I'll have to talk to Dumbledore. I don't think he'd like to Floo here and back every day, he'll probably need accommodation here (I think the Three Broomsticks can manage it?)

Later: Yay! D said yes. Rune can stay at the Three Broomsticks and we'll refund all his expenses. As for getting paid for teaching, though, he'll have to make do with the honour of being a guest speaker at Hogwarts!

I really like the way things are done here. He can come on Monday!

**January 31, Friday**

Full moon

In other news, it's Prof. Sprout's birthday, which we duly celebrated with a basketful of delicious home-baked scones, the sort that she gave me when she allowed me to have tea with her after I'd been helping her in the hothouse or with the weeding during my summer at school. She's a dab hand at cooking, and of course a real exert as regards all sorts of herbs and spices.


	6. February

**February 1, Saturday**

10 AM. Just finished the first quarter of my jigsaw puzzle (worked all through the night since yesterday evening). Blimey, it's much larger than I thought, and will probably take much more time and effort than I expected!

**February 9, Sunday **

It's been a great week! Rune's been taking all my classes, and they've loved him. His English is very good, with a slight but charming Swedish accent, and of course he's a real master of the Runic art now. I've spent a lot of time with him, but he was quite happy on his own as well. He went Apparating over the whole country, seen nearly all the things he wanted to see and basically was very satisfied. I had a final dinner with him yesterday at the Three Bs, with Dumbledore present, and basically we've parted in the best of friendly spirits and he promised a) to come next year too and b) to recruit as many people as he'll be able for the Swedish branch of the Order. I'm a bit tired and very content.

**February 10, Monday**

Weekly Staff Meeting

Good job I have the diary with me. I've hidden it inside some parchment, so I hope that she thinks I'm scribbling on the parchment taking down what she's saying. Bloody hell. I could be sitting in my comfy chair and reading something nice. Like Adrian Mole.

Gosh! She's just hinted we might have to make some mad presentations to keep our jobs! Bloody hell, she seems to want to hold some sort of competition, not just for those of us on probation, but for all the teachers, and we'll have to talk about our bleeding pedagogical achievements.

Oh joy, it's in September. I'll worry about it in the summer, then.

Oh dear. I'm locked in the corner here, with a wall behind and a heavy desk in front and Sybill Trelawney on the left, which means that I can't move an inch and I'm all sore from not moving. All I can do is slide up and down on my chair, but exercising my bottom doesn't help to alleviate the overall sensation akin to that of a balloon about to explode. I've noticed it before, complete lack of movement puts more strain on the body than being very active.

I think Flitwick and Prof. Vector are playing battleships.

Last time, I played hangman with Aurora, but this time she's far away and the only way for me to communicate with her would be to hurl notes across the whole classroom. Talk about the subconscious. Bloody hell.

I could play hangman with Sev., of course, using the two-way notebook, but the bugger is sulking in another corner, and, judging by the lack of any movement and his suspiciously slow breathing, I think he's asleep behind that curtain of hair. Just the tip of the conk is showing through.

I wish I could tie my legs in a knot.

I also wish Dumbledore would put a stop to this already. I mean respecting the Ministry's OK, but why let her take over the whole—

Love Aurora! A note has just come crawling from her, crawling up my leg like an insect. She's brilliant, it even takes on the colour of the surroundings. She wants to play this game where you write a poem together. "I'm sitting in a boring meeting." Hmmm.... "I feel it's history repeating" is the best I can manage.

Trelawney's got a sickly old woman's breath.

Did I tell Aurora I'm celibate?

Going by the intensely interested countenance of Prof. Sprout, she's also half asleep.

Note came crawling back from Aurora. Hey! It's not her hand! Aha, it's Madam Hooch. Well, no wonder the poor witch's bored – she's not even a Professor, yet she has to attend this weekly pandemonium.

Three more minutes and I'll dissolve.

Aargh. Prof. McGonagall has put a kibosh on the fun. Sent note to me telling me to stop behaving like a seven-year-old. (Also that Umbridge is beginning to notice.) She's right of course. It's plain amazing, in fact, how childish grown-ups can turn when left to their own devices.

I didn't think that ghastly woman would notice anything, though. If a volcano erupted underneath her she'd still drone on. I wish it did, actually.

Yessss! Time's up!

Evening: Time to write that Portkey application, I think. For the record: I'm thinking of taking the OWL group to the British Museum to see some Anglo-Saxon and Scandinavian things next week, and the best way to take them will be by Portkey because it's much less hassle than Flooing them all to my flat (I doubt that the Ministry will welcome a sudden invasion of schoolchildren in their Hall, and anyway I'm not at all sure I'll find my way out of there above ground) or side-along-Apparating with ten children clinging to me. So I have to write some sort of application, and I'll have to think of a way to hand it in to Magical Transportation Dept over the head of the esteemed Inquisitor, because she might refuse to give her consent and ruin my wonderful plan by nipping it in the bud. I'll get in touch with Arthur or Tonks and ask them.

Later: No, they say I'll have to apply to her personally. She's in charge of everything that's going on in this school. So you want it formal, eh? All right then, ma'am... you asked for it.

Prof. Dolores Jane Umbridge

the high inquisitor blah blah blah

I, Roderick Heald, hereby ask for your permission... no

I do hereby request permission leave to set up a Portkey device to allow the transportation of myself and a group of fifth-year students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, numbering ten (please find the list enclosed), on the sixteenth day of February of this year, from the entrance hall of the said aforementioned school to my residence at No. 6A, Gillingham St, London, at 9:30 AM, and from the said residence back to the said

school at 5:00 PM, to facilitate a study school trip to London necessary within the framework of the course of Ancient Runes at this school according to the study programme. I also request your permission for those students to be absent from their lessons on the day of the tour school trip.

Roderick Heald, MaD,

Professor of Ancient Runes, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Yeah, that looks about right. Now to talk to Prof. Binns (not that he'll notice them missing, but still), Prof. Trelawney, Prof. Vector and – oh! roll-eyes – Prof. Snape.

Oh, and I must remember to tell the kids to wear something more Muggle-like. I could use a twilight charm on them, but I think it will be much easier if they really look inconspicuous.

**February 11, Tuesday**

I'm too tired to write, dear diary, I'm sorry. Two lessons, then German, and the weather's been ghastly. It's ten o'clock, but I'm going to bed.

**February 14, Saturday**

Baah. Valentine's Day. Hate it.

After breakfast: Blimey! There are three V.D. cards under my door! Unbelievable! Who can they be from?.. right, this is humorous so it's probably from someone old enough to see the funny side... Aurora Sinistra would seem to be an educated guess. But these two heart-shaped music-playing monstrosities? They are definitely from students, just look at the childish handwriting... Handwriting! Hang on a tick... right, they are from Hannah Abbott and Laura Madley. Stupid Hufflepuff girls! If they wanted to keep their crush a secret they shouldn't have sent me the cards while their essays are still on my desk. Or at least should've changed their handwriting. I feel strange. Aurora's card is funny, but the girls' ones only make me deeply embarrassed.

Evening: Spent almost the whole day in the library, ostentatiously ignoring all the romance in the air. (There were a few kissing couples even there when I came, but Madam Pince, a devoted spinster, soon turned them out.) Then walked around the grounds a little with Severus – managed to drag him outside for a change (since he also hates Valentine's Day and didn't want to stay indoors and listen to silly jokes about love potions). Nice, warm day. It's gone much milder now that spring is approaching. It's been raining in the afternoon, even.

Oh, and that card was from Aurora all right. I should have sent her one, I suppose, but I just never do!

**February 15, Sunday **

Spent all say worrying about the British Museum tomorrow (yeah, I forgot to mention that I did, amazingly, get a permission from Umbridge!). I haven't ever set up Portkeys before, so I've tried it a few times, transporting myself across my room, and I think I'm reasonably happy with short-distance-travel results. I'll now try long-distance and attempt to skip to London.

In case I don't make it, I hereby leave all my worldly possessions to Severus Snape, of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Here goes.

Ten minutes later: Yess! Yess!! I've done it! I got to London and safely back! Oh, I must say this is a relief. I just hope there isn't a way to mess it up from the Ministry. Because actually, my biggest worry is that Umbridge agreed to let me do this outing so easily. It just feels like a trap. Or probably I'm just paranoid, as usual.

**February 16, Monday **

The British Museum excursion's been a real success. We set off from here in the morning, and the Portkey (a piece of rope) took us obligingly to my flat (although, truth to tell, I was half expecting it to land us, or at least me, somewhere else, somewhere nasty, like Azkaban for instance). There, I looked over the students to see if they were Muggle-like enough. Some were, but those who are Purebloods had some difficulty dressing up as Muggles. As a result, we had to spent about forty minutes at the flat while I put camouflage spells on their clothes. I mean I'm not saying that a top-hat and a 1950s cardigan aren't Muggle clothes (Theodore Nott came dressed in them), but it would be a bit hard to try and pose as a schoolboy in them. I had told them all to wear their House scarves, to single them out in the crowd easier, and in the end they looked as presentable and inconspicuous a group of schoolchildren as ever entered the BM or the Tube, which we took there. I wore corduroys and a jumper myself (and my old Ravenclaw scarf as well, for the students to locate me easier, in their turn), and as for my werewolf hair, nobody ever notices that, not even in the wizarding world.

The girl at the information desk must have thought I was a history teacher or something, what with a bunch of kids crowding behind me, all of us in college scarves. "Which school you from?" she asked. "Hogwarts," I said airily. "Never heard of it," she said. "It's rather obscure, and very selective. Up in Scotland," I said. "Oh," she said, and we went inside. The kids were watching me with eyes round as apples. It had never occurred to them that sometimes, the best way to lie your way out is to tell the whole holy truth. She'll never remember the name, and even if she does, she'll never even dream of beginning to suspect just how selective this school is.

We looked at all the Anglo-Saxon and Norse things, Sutton Hoo and all that, and they really liked it. Then I took them for lunch to the Museum Tavern, and then we walked back to Gillingham St at a leisurely speed, enjoying London in the weak winter sunshine, discussing Runes and things. There was still half an hour before the Portkey back, so we had some tea and biscuits and I told them a little about Uppsala and the Society and my work at the International Dept and Durmstrang and Kitezh etc. Then we went back to Hogwarts.

**February 17, Tuesday**

After German: Oh dear oh dear. I do enjoy the status of being the only Ancient Runes master round here, but this is such a lot of work! Two lessons today, then German. The change from last term, when I did little except basically hang around and help a bit, couldn't be more pronounced. I haven't got much time left for anything really!

**February 18, Wednesday**

Eeeer... Ahem. Hm.

Right.

No, but it was funny! Prof. Sprout's just embarrassed me incredibly. I came into the staff room, after my first year class, and greeted my lady colleagues (apart from Prof. S, they were Professors McGonagall and Vector, and Madam Hooch), to which she exclaimed happily: "Oh, hello, Roderick, how nice to see a male member!" Everyone fell about laughing hysterically, she clapped her hand to her mouth, went beetroot red and said: "Of the staff, member of the staff!!" I just stood there, half laughing, half wishing the earth to swallow me up. Well, at least something to be remembered by!

**February 19, Thursday**

Decided to set a test to my third-years. Chose a text for them to translate yesterday, and now they're sitting there and writing studiously. I'm writing too, and they shoot me sly apprehensive glances, to see if I'm watching them, then whisper urgently to their neighbours. Naive, silly children! Don't you know teachers have more than the usual human share of attentiveness? Anyway consulting with their friends won't help them, as I know from long experience. I pretend I've only just noticed. "Shh, ladies and gentlemen. Please be quiet or there'll be points taken off." There's a hush. Two minutes later, there's whispering again.

**February 20, Friday**

Sevvie was right about teacher's authority. My fourth-years were well-nigh unmanageable today, in both classes. I took points off but that didn't help matters much. They talked and were basically ungovernable. I had to stop the lesson and ask them if they had any questions, and they asked me something about dwimmercraft and I gave them a small lecture to keep them at bay. Runes were forgotten. Sevvie wouldn't have allowed anything of the sort. What am I to do? I'm not terrifying enough. Maybe I should ask him to be present at my classes, they usually go very disciplined around him.

**February 21, Saturday**

Just arranged a Hogsmeade weekend tomorrow with Flitwick. I somehow find myself much more eager to go there than last term. Either I need more breaks now, or maybe it's just because I've explored all there is to explore within the castle. I don't think it's a bad thing, though. Everyone goes there and it's time I became part of the teaching crowd and not just S's sidekick.

**February 22, Sunday**

Just back from the village, been having a Butterbeer with my colleagues. It's nice! Now I feel like doing my jigsaw.

Later: Half the jigsaw is done! Oh dear, it's such a lot of work! And I'm a bit bored with being unable to use the table properly since I've had to put a cushioning charm on it so that all my quills, parchment, the occasional essay etc. hover half an inch above the puzzle. I've got to get myself together and finish it as soon as possible.

**February 23, Monday**

Blimey! I didn't think I'd ever stoop to reading The Quibbler, but this issue's definitely worth it. I don't know how they managed to contrive it, but it features a huge, detailed interview with Harry Potter, all about the night when the Dark Lord came back and who's Death Eater (Malfoy! He mentions Malfoy! Yay! Haha! Oh bugger, and Nott.) It's a, erm, controversial magazine, of course, but maybe it'll get people to think. It can only be for the better if more people are aware of what's really happening. Maybe this boy's not such a treasure as Lupin and Black think, but he's definitely brave and honest.

Noon: Surprise, surprise.

BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS

Any student found in possession of the magazine The Quibbler will be expelled.

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-seven.

Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor

She's so busy confiscating she's even cancelled the WSM! I almost feel sorry for her. Here's a person so madly loyal that they can't face facts when the facts contradict the authorities' point of view.

Evening: As usual, the only effect it has had seems to be that everyone in the school has read the interview and goes around carrying a copy. Of course, teachers read them ostentatiously in corridors (I even toyed with the idea of reading it aloud to some other teacher, but now, by the end of the day, I see it would have been quite unnecessary). The students are growing expert at all sorts of befuddling and confounding spells, because some people that I could swear on my life were carrying Quibblers when I passed them, had only notebooks or blank pages in their hands seconds after, when they caught sight of U. The students were all discussing the interview at the back of the class, and in the front of the class too, to be honest. Even Hermione Granger couldn't sit still, she was positively shining with glee and kept sending and receiving little notes. When I realised I couldn't hold their attention any more, I announced I wanted them to read one of the textbooks while I went and looked for a text to give them; the second I stepped inside the book cupboard at the back of the classroom and disappeared from their sight, I heard murmuring like the roar of the ocean, and the sound of pages being turned, but I somehow doubt they were the pages of Intermediate Rune Translation. I chose a text at random and stayed in that cupboard for the rest of the lesson, sitting on the narrow table and reading my own copy of The Quibbler that I had borrowed from Aurora.

As I walked back to the staff room from dinner, I ran into Harry Potter, and suddenly had an impulse to reward him for his courage. I asked him where Hermione Granger was, feigning the need to discuss her special project with her in case U was standing behind, and when he told me he didn't know but she was probably in the loo, I thanked him and awarded Gryffindor thirty points for his help. In the staff room, which was mercifully Umbridge-free, I learned that Prof. Sprout had done the same thing.

**February 24, Tuesday**

Set a test in German, too. Let's see how they cope. I think they will, I'm quite pleased with them.

**February 25, Wednesday **

I'm bored. It's the free period between the two fourth-year classes, and for some reason I'm tired and out of spirits today. Don't have any wish, even, to go down to the staff room, so I'm sitting here, in my chambers, and staring outside at the trees swaying in the wind and the corrugated surface of the Lake.

Corrugated surface? I've heard it somewhere... hang on... bloody hell! 'Course I heard it, no, I read it! It's from The Great Gatsby! Only it was the surface of the bay there. Bugger. I shouldn't read so much Muggle fiction, apparently.

Later: Dammit, I've missed the cake! It's Madam Hooch's birthday, she brought a cake to the staff room, and I didn't even know about it skulking upstairs. They say it was really good.

**February 26, Thursday**

Aunt Florence's birthday. Sent her an owl yesterday and a large bunch of flowers that Prof. Sprout had kindly provided me with. (Forgot the name. I'll ask her again, they were really pretty.) I don't think Uncle Malvolio'll be to happy, but sod him! Why did she marry him? Marrying a person of Italian descent is true suicide if you're British, especially as British as poor Auntie Flo. And a man like Malvolio! I asked Sev., by the way, and although he doesn't think Sinistra's actually a Death Eater, he's definitely heard the name mentioned on the Death Eater circuit, and that must mean something.

**February 27, Friday**

Staff room, free period. I'm beginning to find it boring, actually. I have these gaps on Wed., Thu. and Fri., and I definitely do know now what Bathsheba was complaining about in late August! It is a stupid schedule! No other way to cram all the classes in, apparently.

And the funny thing is, you think: Oh, a free period, lovely, I won't spend time getting ready for the class tonight then, do it tomorrow during the free period. And then you sit down in the staff room, take you things out and realise that it's soooo inestimably boring!! You feel much more like having another cup of tea instead.

Tea's another weird thing. I'm not exactly hungry or anything, but it is there, so warm and fragrant, and the biscuits are so appealing... Has anyone counted, I wonder, the quantity of tea that a single teacher gets through during an academic year? Must be gallons! (And Galleons, come to think of it!)


	7. March

**March 1, Monday**

Full moon

No news otherwise, apart from the fact that I'm really really tired. Wish I could sleep. I haven't actually been doing anything much all day, just the one lesson and a strangely short staff meeting, but there's a general gloominess and dreariness in the weather that keeps one sort of depressed, with very small things taking a lot of effort to be done. Spending the night getting ready for German. As the students are tired too, I don't have to prepare anything new for the third-year Runes, since in both classes we have things to do left over from last time. I like it like this.

**March 2, Tuesday**

The tiredness continues, although the sun has made a half-hearted attempt to come out today. Maybe that's why I can't find anything interesting to record.

**March 3, Wednesday**

Suddenly realised I didn't want to hang around the school and have dinner there, and since I've been to Hogsmeade only recently, I've taken the Floo to Diagon Alley. I'm now sitting and waiting for my food at the Leaky Cauldron. It's packed full of people, it's very noisy here, but I sort of enjoy being nobody here. I hope no-one comes looking for me urgently back at school.

They've got a jukebox here now, it plays rather loudly. I wish they hadn't, it makes things a little hectic. I suppose Tom's fallen under the influence of his granddaughter who takes a hand in running the pub now. She's nice. Give her ten years and she'll turn into another Madam Rosmerta.

Lots of young people here, and I suddenly understood I'm not one of them. They're all laughing and, by the look of it, discussing the latest Quidditch match.

Still waiting for my dinner.

Fork has arrived. What about the bloody food?!

School was OK today, but it turned out (suddenly buy not unexpectedly, I must admit) that a NEWT programme for practical Runes has to be made up for things to be in order for the Ministry. It's easy though. All I'll have to do is to take the OWL one that I've already drawn up and tweak it a little, changing the names of the texts etc. Easy. Gotta just sit down and do it – that's the difficult bit, sitting down is.

Only just noticed Tom's got his walls adorned with plaques with all sort of wise sayings on them, such as:

Some people can look so busy doing nothing that they seem indispensable.

Hard work has never killed anyone, but why take the chance?

One fifth of the people are against everything all the time.

Lovely, here's the milkshake. Where's me chops though?!

How sad. I'm an obsessive writer! Funny, the method that I usually choose to relax is either reading texts or producing them. A true linguist, Ruthwell would be proud.

Oh get ON WITH IT! Have some respect for a Hogwarts master, MaD etc etc! I said I'd be back by—ah, there they are!

Lovely food. I'm happy I dropped by. After all, spending all of your time at school can't be healthy.

This jukebox is murdering some of my old favourites. It's now playing Walk Like an Egyptian Mummy, in a completely insane rendition, I think it's the Reformed Hobgoblin Choir. Time to get a move on apparently!

**March 4, Thursday**

I'm getting a bit worried about some of my third-year Slytherins. They are a very mixed group, of course, as usual with any beginners – a few had some previous experience with Runic incantations, read books etc, others were complete novices, and I thought that some of them, the weaker ones, needed support and encouragement. I tried to make them feel respected, needed, listened to; and what do you think? They've really come into their own now, and even though they do make some stupid mistakes from time to time they're quite capable of managing on their own, without any specific support on my part (say, Brandon Donaghue); but now there's a middling-to-fair student who seems to be developing an inferiority complex! Althea Braithwaite is the girl I mean. She was OK when we started, and suddenly today she nearly broke down and cried. I was handing out personal assignments, and had to ask her to exchange the topic that she'd chosen for her report for another one (because I needed that other one and the person whom it had gone to first, Eugenius Skinner, has suddenly decided to drop out of Runes), and there she was, her lips a-tremble, looking completely miserable and all the other girls started to comfort her as she was saying something like "I won't manage that, I'm incapable of learning so much" etc. I tried to make her feel better about it too, and I'll try to treat her kinder from now on. (And she is sort of high-strung, generally.) But it's always so difficult when there's someone in the class you have to treat in a special way. You never know how the others will react. Well, going by the way the whole group reacted today they'll be OK with that, but I really feel a bit strange about it.

**March 5, Friday**

Right. Today must have been the absolute rock bottom. I woke up in the morning, lowered my feet to the floor and realised that I could not stand up for all the treasures of the world. I tried to will myself up, but I just could NOT. I sat there, gripping my head, unable to move as if I were under a Full Body-Bind, hating all the students, hating my job, hating everything. I sat there like that for five full minutes. I wasn't even sleepy, I was just completely and utterly unable to move, my will-power paralysed. I just can't describe that in words so that the overwhelming, crushing, leaden weight of this feeling should come across. It took a superhuman effort to finally get up and walk the three steps to the chair where I had left my clothes yesterday night. I don't think I recall ever feeling like this, well maybe during my own school days, in the week before the NEWTs, when I was almost dead from revising twenty-five hours a day. I suppose it can only get better from now on, I don't think it's humanly possible to feel any worse.

**March 6, Saturday**

Yess! Only a quarter of the puzzle to go.

**March 7, Sunday**

Been to Hogsmeade again with Aurora and Sev. He even tried with some success to be civil around her. That's quite an achievement for him.

I can't stop wondering at how much these trips feel like the school Hogsmeade weekends. I do feel completely like a schoolboy, and I get a distinct impression that at least Aurora feels the same. We do all the things we used to do: window-shopping, having tea at Madam Rosmerta's or Madam Puddifoot's, joking, giggling. Having a good time, basically.

**March 8, Monday**

Look, if I knew how nasty Hogwarts could turn I'd have rejected Dumbledore's kind offer and stayed in London. Trelawney was sacked tonight, and my Lord what a scene that was. Women shouting and crying is probably the thing I hate most, and that came aplenty. I wish I hadn't been there, now, but the screams were such that I thought Death Eaters were attacking when I heard the noise, so I sprinted out of the Great Hall, abandoning my dinner and summoning my staff as I ran, only to find out that the disturbance was due, not to external penetration, but to inside tension coming to a head. It was nasty and embarrassing beyond description. I really wanted to go and strangle Umbridge. She was repulsive and unconscionably cruel. I think she derives some sort of erotic pleasure out of humiliating people. Yuck.

And we've got another colleague now – and he's a Centaur by the name of Firenze. Curioser and curioser.

**March 9, Tuesday**

I found out accidentally something that's been long on my mind. I've been wondering how the students call me behind my back, whether I had a nickname or something, and I've found out today. They simply call me "Roderick". Mixed feelings: on the one hand, I'm slightly disappointed it's not something more imaginative, but on the other, it could have been much worse! We called Slughorn "Old Slug", I remember, and Prof. Kettleburn was "Teapot".

**March 10, Wednesday**

Wow. I can't stop smiling. What happened was, as I was walking down the stairs to dinner in the wake of my fourth-year Slytherin class, I overheard them talking, and they were in fact discussing the class, and one of them, Ida Macgregor, said enthusiastically: "I'm so happy we're having Roderick this term, he makes it so interesting!" Then she saw me as I was overtaking them, stopped short and blushed violently. I thanked her and rushed forward, quite as red in the face as she was. She was talking about me! She sounded really sincere, really excited! I'm so happy.

**March 11, Thursday **

I wish I could draw. Firenze having tea in the staff room is a sight to behold!

On the minus side, there seems to be a feud developing within my third-year Gryffindor/Hufflepuff group. They used to be OK with each other, but now there's a bad clash. Before lunch, the two G girls, Victoria Michaels and Bryony Davidson, came up to me and asked if they could be absent from the class, citing a sudden violent conflict within the group as a reason for their not being able as much as to be in the same room with them ("They treated us very badly, Professor, they betrayed us."). I said I couldn't accept that as a good enough reason – I mean, so, will the two of them attend the lessons no more or what? I asked them to find a less radical way of dealing with the conflict. They agreed and went their way. Before the class, I let the group in earlier than usual and, with the two schismatics being a bit late (as usual), I asked the others what the matter was. They explained that there was indeed a conflict which caused a great rift between the Gs and the Hs in that particular class. The Hs said it was the Gs' fault, predictably. Then VM and BD came in, and took different places from the ones they'd always taken before (at the front desk, together with two Hs), occupying a desk all to themselves at the back of the class, and were very rude to the Hs during the discussion. I even had to stop the lesson and tell them that I was aware of the conflict but could they please leave their feuding outside the classroom. The lesson then went on very much as usual, and actually they were all quite active and energetic – bordering on the hysterical, I'd say, really. I hope they sort it out soon, I don't want any fights in class. The trouble is that they are from two Houses, if they were all in one House I'd tell their Head and she'd sort this out with them, but the conflict is really too trivial to bother two Heads of Houses – ordinary teenage stuff. Anyway I don't see why I should worry on this account – I'm only an optional course teacher, after all. I'm actually concerned, not about their feuds, but about my own reaction. The thing is that the two Gs are rather backward students (esp Bryony Davidson, who's the leader in the pair), and with my own Ravenclaw preference for good brains I realised at once I was on the side of the academically stronger Hufflepuffs, although rationally, I can see that both parties are to blame (going by what they told me). I made a point of treating them all just as I'd done before, and I hope they didn't notice I was taking any sides, and I'll try to actually make myself feel that way, too.

**March 12, Friday**

Made the teaching easy on myself today. Time to set tests, and that's what I did today to my fourth-years. Next week, it will be the others' turn. While they were writing their translations and exercises, I just read a book quietly.

Hang on, is that a voice from the fireplace?

Yepp, was Sev. "Oi, Heald! C'mere!" the fireplace shouted suddenly. I stuck my head in the fire and saw him standing in his office, working robes on, sleeves rolled up. He looked at me appraisingly and said:

'Look, can you lend me a bit of your hair for a potion?'

'What?' I said. 'How the hell can I lend you hair?'

'Oh all right, not lend, but can you let me use a bit of your hair? Just a snippet. I'm out of wolf's fur, and I need it for this draught I'm trying out.'

I suppose I must have looked stupid. I definitely felt stupid, standing there on all fours with my head in the grate, looking up at him. He must have understood it.

'Oh come here,' he said impatiently, pulling me up. I got out of his fireplace and saw that he was in the middle of making a potion: there were jars and mounds of unidentifiable powders on his desk, and a small cauldron full of something blood-red in colour was hissing and bubbling on the portable burner. He was watching me, tapping his left palm with a pair of scissors he was holding.

'Why do you want my hair?' I asked.

'I told you, I need wolf fur,' he said. The scissors flashed menacingly.

'But my hair ain't exactly fur,' I said.

'It is, I examined it ages ago. Now come on! I'm not gonna cut your wonderful locks off, although Heaven knows I'd really like to, the way it looks,' he said.

'You're the one to lecture me about how my hair looks?' I asked, but he wasn't listening. He walked around me, looking like a maniac barber, then lifted a strand of hair which hung over my eyes and cut it off. Then he turned away and seemed to forget about my existence immediately. He rolled the hair between his palms into a small ball and threw it into the cauldron. The bubbling substance there turned still and shiny black. He said a long incantation under his breath and stirred it a few times, in different directions. Blue vapour started coming from the cauldron. Severus nodded and started mixing together the powders with a brush.

'What's that you're making, anyway?' I asked.

'It's an—experimental—solution,' he said, making long pauses between words as if he wasn't quite there with me. 'If I have the right proportions—it should be effective—effective for—keeping one awake... I've got hair of wolf—lots of coffee bean—moonstone—that sort of thing...' He gathered all the powders and threw them into the cauldron. The substance there turned orange and sort of sparkling.

'What, an antidote against the Draught of Living Death?' I asked.

'Could be... could be...' he answered absent-mindedly, adding fourteen drops of some green liquid to the cauldron, at which the potion turned clear and started smelling strongly of lemons. He sighed contentedly, stepped away from the cauldron and started wiping his hands on a towel. Suddenly his head jerked up: he frowned and looked at me. 'Why are you still here?'

'I have a right to know what use bits of my body are being put to,' I said.

'I'm not sure it works,' he said. 'It looks right, but I've got to try it out to make sure.'

'I'm not drinking that,' I sad quickly. 'I already have my own share of sleepless nights, thank you.'

He surveyed me through his curtain of hair disdainfully.

'I wasn't going to ask you to drink it,' he said. 'What if it's wrong and you die? What shall I tell Umbridge when she asks why the Runes master is missing classes? And it's such a lot of paperwork when someone dies at school. I'll drink it myself.'

'Why do you think it won't kill you if it could kill me?' I asked.

He smiled grimly and said:

'You wish.'

**March 13, Saturday**

Spent the whole day cleaning out the room. It all began with half my clothes falling out on me from the wardrobe in the morning (I have been stuffing them there rather haphazardly recently). I started to put them back, sorting them as I went (presumably I won't be needing my warmest jumper any more), went up to the roof to air some of them, even; so now it's all orderly and nice. I decided to rub some lemon oil on the walls of the wardrobe for my neatly arranged clothes to keep fresh, went to look for the bottle in the desk drawer, which ended in me turning out the whole drawer and sorting my post, too. And then, of course, I had to do the rest of the desk and put all the parchments and textbooks and essays and what not in neat little piles. Obviously then I had to pick up the books that were lying on the floor near the desk and put them back on the shelves. Then I picked up my staff that had been standing leaning against the table, took it to the closet with the coats and shoes, and of course since I'd already got into the routine I just had to take them all out, examine them, air them, and put them back neatly. Something's been eating my fur cloak! I repaired it, then threw out the old bags with dried lavender which don't smell any more and put in some new ones (good job I'd bought them a week ago in Hogsmeade!).

I thank my lucky stars that there are house-elves here to do the dusting and the wiping of the floor and the cleaning of the grate and the rest of it, otherwise I might never have stopped!

**March 14, Sunday**

Aunt Marrion's birthday. I Flooed to their place in the morning and stayed there for about six hours, joining them for the celebratory dinner. Gave her my best wishes and a book I'd bought in Hogsmeade. (Yes, she got more than flowers; after all, she's my favourite aunt!) Black Forest is still very cold, there are patches of snow where the sunrays don't reach, but their house is very warm and inviting. Feels like a fairy-tale. Uncle Johannes played clavichords for Auntie. Marcus and Lukas were there, obviously, they're both doing well, Marcus is going to be a father for the second time soon. And, I must confess that even though I'm very fond of both my German cousins, it is a bit painful for me to see them, they are sort of what me and Robert could have been if things had been different.

Only trouble is, I absolutely can't face the thought of sitting down and getting ready for tomorrow's lesson now that I'm back home.

**March 15, Monday**

Hm! Flitwick's just asked me to substitute for him on Wednesday! He got an invitation to a conference in London which he doesn't want to miss. I said I wasn't an expert in Charms, but he said, in his usual blithe chirrupy voice, "Oh it doesn't matter, Roderick, all you have to do is supervise them as they practise!" Well, it might be fun, I just hope I'll manage to put out any fires they might start with this Hovering Charm!

**March 16, Tuesday**

Oh, I love marking in the staff room! Everyone's sitting around, the students' essays etc scattered on every desk, chair and lap, and from time to time people burst out with something like: "What? I don't understand that!" or "Just look at that spelling!" or "That's WRONG!" followed by vicious scraping as their quill crosses out the offending sentence. And of course, since we all teach different things, no-one's actually seeking advice

or indeed any response at all, and in the end this room, its silence punctuated by loud unanswered questions, does look like a room in a madhouse, full of people living each in his or her own separate world.

People are converging after the class: Prof. McGonagall's just swept in sharing her experience with a particularly obtuse group, and as soon as she finished, Aurora Sinistra came in and said, "Right, I've left my students in tears!" I say, this is getting rather tense! Stands to reason – it's the end of term soon, we're on our last legs again. I don't think the students realise that a teacher's dream is turning up for a lesson and finding the classroom empty.

**March 17, Wednesday**

Yes. The Charms lessons are just as much fun as I remember them. First, as I opened the door and said I was going to be substituting, they were very very quiet and slightly scared (they were first-years). But ten minutes into the lesson, the classroom was filled by the usual high-volume noise and lots of objects zooming hither and thither. They didn't start a fire, but one of the students managed to turn the book he was trying to levitate into a capybara, another turned it violently green and the third thumped his neighbour hard on the nose with it accidentally so that she started to cry. I had to dodge all the time to avoid getting a bang on the head myself. But all in all, I think it was a success.

**March 18, Thursday**

Staff room. Holy Grail, it's boring. I'm in this gap between the two third-year classes, and since I'm ready for the one that's coming, I have absolutely nothing to do but sit here and chat to the people who are also having free periods (now I'm left in the company of Prof. Vector and Madam Hooch). At least it's warm here, it's pretty chilly elsewhere in the castle.

The ladies are conversing in low tones about some slimming techniques. I'm pretending not to hear them, immersed in checking the homework. "I've used this formula to calculate my ideal weight..." I don't know what they want to do it for, they both look OK to me. Not slender perhaps, but then they aren't teenage girls any more, are they? Normal, full-grown ladies.

Maybe women have a different perception of themselves. I don't think I've ever met a man who was unhappy about his weight, however fat he might have been (say, Hagrid! or Slughorn!!). But then I don't know how they feel in the privacy of their chambers. Just because I'm not bothered about it doesn't mean all of us men are indifferent to the problem, I just happen to be skinny, that's all!

Which reminds me. I think I'll have one more cup of tea.

**March 19, Friday**

Staff room. Just met some of my third-years in the corridor, and they all went happily, "Hello, Professor!" They were glad to see me! It does feel nice. Apparently they don't think I'm a monster any more.

**March 20, Saturday**

Midnight: Just got back to my room from the library! I got really lost to reality rooting about in the catalogue there. Good job I had the key spells! As I came out and was locking the door, I heard excited whispering and wheezy panting and the sound of rapidly shuffling feet, and then Mr Filch hove into view, with Mrs Norris winding around his legs, his lamp bobbing, a look on his face like that of a hunter who's finally found an animal in the trap he set two weeks ago; then he saw me, and was deeply, profoundly disappointed. "Oh, it's you, Professor," he said sullenly. "I thought it was a student out of bed." He gave me a dirty look as if I'd deprived him of an exquisite pleasure (well, I suppose I had, too) and shuffled away.

The school is really scary at night, so silent and eerie. The teachers have no curfew, of course, unlike the students, but everyone still keeps mainly to their rooms after ten o'clock; and as my footsteps echoed hollowly along the deserted corridors, whose silence was only broken by whisperings and sniggerings from the portraits lining their walls, I felt distinctly uneasy. Am definitely very glad to be back here at my fireplace.

**March 21, Sunday**

Been to Hogsmeade again today, just hanging around, had a couple of pints at Madam Rosmerta's with Fergus Merrythought, Aurora and Cassandra Wellsweep. It's getting warmer and milder, the air smells of spring, and everyone seems to be looking up a little after a rather difficult winter. We stayed at the Three Broomsticks for over two hours. And even though I'm rather older than those three (well, maybe not Aurora so much), I felt very young. It really did feel like the Hogwarts weekends at school, and what's more those of them that I'd had when I'd been part of the crowd, before everything went wrong and I became a loner.

**March 22, Monday **

WSM: Nothing of interest.

Otherwise, too, a very uneventful day. Just me alternating between frantic worrying (Zeitnot!!!) and apathetic listlessness. The end of term is drawing near!

**March 23, Tuesday**

Got a letter from Oleg Volkhov, the friendly Transfiguration master from Kitezh. About time, too! I was getting worried. I wrote to him in summer, on D's request, and I'm very happy to inform you, dear diary, that I've managed to rope in another useful and active supporter to our cause. Kitezh seems to be just as much an outpost of ours as Durmstrang is an outpost of the Death Eaters. Well, they would be, seeing as they haven't been in the business for fifteen years yet, and Lord V is attempting to plunge wizarding Britain and then, presumably, other countries into chaos and disruption. And they have Europe's highest ratio of Muggle-born wizards at Kitezh, too. He says he's taken so long to answer because he wanted to get back to me with some real results, and he's been working on his colleagues and their Ministry, to get everyone round to our point of view and persuade them that some real action was needed, not just declarations. They are now ready to fight if need be.

Oleg also writes that he was happy to get a letter from me because he was wondering where he could get a British book he needs. It doesn't seem to be a very rare book, I think it should be available in Hogsmeade. I think I'll take a walk to the village after lunch.

Evening: Got it! I'll post the book tomorrow. I'm always glad to help the promotion of dwimmercraft. It was a wise move of theirs to choose dwimmercraft, it's much more suitable for the Russian wizarding tradition than Modern Magic, as far as I could see. And it's much easier to revive wizardry along the lines of Old Magic if you're doing it from scratch, it's more intuitive. I wonder if the Kitezh school still looks the same or if it changes over time like Hogwarts. It's quite imposing, especially the way it reflects in the lake without being seen above it! One thing I'm grateful to the Ministry for is appointing me as an outside expert for Kitezh when the international committee was being formed. Well, actually, I think I'm also grateful to them for suggesting me as a visiting English language professor to Karkaroff. My stint at Durmstrang may have ended in a small unpleasantness, but on the whole, those five years were quite interesting and enjoyable.

It's all down to knowing the right people, in fact. It was on Ruthwell's recommendation that I was taken on the Kitezh Committee when they were searching for people knowing dwimmercraft well enough to help restore it in Russia, and consequently became formally attached to the Central European Desk; and it was on the recommendation of Sigismund Pollack, the head of the Desk, that I was invited to Durmstrang.

**March 24, Wednesday**

Blimey! I've been so busy that I forgot it's Ruthwell's birthday tomorrow! I think I'll try and look in on him after dinner. What shall I give him though?... Am off for emergency visit to Hogsmeade.

**March 25, Thursday**

Just got back from a brilliant evening at Ruthwell's. I bought a bottle of some very good (as they assured me) wine, I hope he'll enjoy it. They were in fact holding a party and Mrs Ruthwell just refused to let me go, but found me a place at the table and I stayed there for almost four hours (thanking my lucky stars I'd had this impulse to Apparate to their place before having lunch at school!). They set the table in the large dining room on the first floor, and then when the actual dinner was over and we moved onto coffee and drinks, everyone went over to the drawing room and stood there and wandered around admiring his collection of artefacts and books. There were about twenty people all in all, some were familiar faces from the Society, others were unknown. It was a big do, actually, since Ruthwell turned 65 (a fact that I'd been completely unaware of – I'd never asked how old he was, he was ageless to me; and I'm so happy now that I thought of visiting, and not just sending a card!) The house hasn't really changed since the times I was his secretary. (Himself, he always called me his apprentice, and I must say I preferred that vastly to "secretary"!) The silence of the library, the cosiness of his private study, the innumerable wonders of the drawing-room glass cabinets which held me, a seventeen-year-old fresh out of Hogwarts, endlessly enthralled. I'm so grateful to Flitwick for bringing us together. When he asked me what I wanted to be and I said I wanted to be a scholar, I never even dreamt of being taken on as private secretary by Egil Ruthwell, one of the country's foremost authorities on Runes, who, in his turn, took sufficient interest in me to suggest that I apply for a scholarship in Uppsala and then to be the supervisor of my thesis! These two men shaped my life, basically.

**March 26, Friday**

What's wrong with this clock? I've been watching it and it is behaving weirdly. The day before yesterday, it was slow. Yesterday, it was fast. Today, it's slow again. I'll look inside, maybe the clockwork needs cleaning.

Later: Ha! Cleaning! There was a gremlin inside there, munching away on the works – such a small one, quite a baby who doesn't know any better than to eat machinery to destroy it. I've put it in a jar, and I don't know what to do with it. If anyone competent were teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, I'd give it to them, but what use would Umbridge find for it?.. Hmmmmmmmmm.... no, all right, I won't let it loose in her office. I'll just chuck it outside.

**March 27, Saturday**

Can't bring myself to throw the little gremlin away. It will die out there. It's sitting in its jar now, glaring at me, opening its tiny mouth with its needle-sharp fangs. Apparently it's hungry.

I've magicked up a broken watch for it and put it in the jar. It's chewing the watch enthusiastically. What on earth am I going to do with it?..

**March 28, Sunday**

British Summer Time begins. Set my newly-repaired clock forward before going to bed yesterday night, but my body still takes some persuading as regards the time of getting up!

Gremlin still in his jar.

After lunch: Sev.'s suggested a walk to the village. Why not? Maybe someone can give me some advice about gremlins there.

Back home: No, they can't. No-one keeps them in jars, obviously, everyone just throws them away somewhere far away from any machinery, or else in their enemies' toolsheds. No, I can't do that. Look at him, sleeping peacefully on the remains of the clockwork.

**March 29, Monday**

Asked U if she wanted my gremlin, but she didn't. (Now, why doesn't that surprise me?)

Gaah! He's escaped! I've just come up to my chamber after lunch, and he's gone! The jar lies smashed on the floor, and no sign of the little bugger anywhere. Oh well, nothing I can do about it, is there?.. (and I do hope he manages to make his way to U's office and eat whatever she uses to control the door-opening times!)

**March 30, Tuesday**

Bored of sitting in my room. I think I'll go down to Sev.'s dungeon.

Later: He's a wonder to watch. He was making the Wolfsbane Potion for Lupin, and it was a real pleasure watching a master at work. I was curled up in his armchair, looking at him, never talking because I know he hates being distracted, and just enjoyed the stillness and the calm and his unwonted good mood (because potions is a thing he loves, and he can't help feeling happy doing something he excels at). His hands are perfect for a potion-maker, I've always thought that, with his long and firm thin fingers, and bear witness to his many experiments in the shape of little burn-marks and discoloured spots, or that thin scar on the back of his left hand from that memorable occasion ten years ago when the test-tube containing an experimental potion exploded in his face, destroying half his workshop and leaving him poisoned with the fumes. A truly unforgettable experience, that was, and thank Heaven I was there, staying at Spinner's End for a week, to drag him out of the room. He might have sustained some permanent damage if he'd stayed inside. Damage, though? I'd never seen him that nice before, or after, if truth be told, he was as meek and docile as a child, transformed for an afternoon by an overdose of that aggression-repressing draught. And – and I was desperate. I had no idea what to do with this new reformed Snape who said "please" and "thank you" and asked my permission to do things and stood there quietly as I picked out the shards of glass from his hair and robes, and was so upset when I cut myself on one. I thought I'd go mad. When he woke up the next morning, surly and rude as ever, I was incredibly relieved, even though I got a thorough bollocking straight away for having done something or other wrong. No, I definitely prefer him the way he is.

**March 31, Wednesday**

Today is an historic day. I'VE FINISHED THE BLOODY JIGSAW!!! Yessss! Just put the 3,000th bit in place, into Capricorn's tail. As promised on the box, the moment I completed the chart, the constellations started glowing silver and gold, actually it looks very pretty. I just don't know what to do with it now: shall I use it as a table-top, or shall I mount it and stick it on the wall?


	8. April and May

**April 1, Thursday**

Full moon

"Post the book tomorrow". Ha ha. It's a week later and finally I'm sitting down to pack the book and address the letter. It's past midnight, the rain is lashing against the panes, so I enjoy sitting here at my desk surrounded by soft candle-light enormously.

I'm also glad it's the evening of the April Fools Day at last. I always feel like a complete git on this day, because anyone can take me in with any tale whatsoever. I always used to get laughed at on this day at school, and afterwards, too. Today's been quite tolerable, actually – since I'm a teacher only fellow teachers could play pranks on me with impunity, and everyone seemed to be too preoccupied by the end-of-term bustle for that. The corridors weren't that quiet though: I've served as a target for Peeves's various missiles two or three times (ink-bottles, toilet rolls etc – that poltergeist does have a very refined sense of humour, of course; and let me tell you that the third time he attacked me he regretted it bitterly) and caught the Weasley twins red-handed as they were trying to bewitch some detergent Mr Filch uses so that it would make things permanently dirty. I took points off them, but I must say those two young geniuses of mischief definitely know their business, their charm was very good. I wonder if I should have given them some points, too, for being so skilled.

Suddenly remembered how I was given both fifty points and a detention in my sixth year for casting a spell. It was the first time I used my newly-discovered Latro. We were all standing around in the quad, I remember, during the break, and suddenly Pettigrew shouted something indescribably nasty at us. It was so bad even Sev. was lost for words or action; but I thought it would be a great opportunity to summon the negatively charged Patronus, since anger and disdain were pulsing in my very fingertips. I remember that, for the first time, I consciously made a real show out of my actions: I tried hard to keep my movements slow and my face inscrutable as I raised my wand, still staring hard at Pettigrew, and said clearly: "Expecto Latronem!" Then I was almost knocked over backwards with the sheer force of the curse as the coal-black unicorn erupted out of the tip of my wand, galloped across the courtyard and charged Wormtail down. He was impressed, I can tell you. And just as I was adding insult to injury by supplying an equally cutting verbal rejoinder, Prof. McGonagall came running, angry beyond description, and put me in detention for attacking a fellow student. Then Flitwick came hurrying along, too, and after establishing that what I'd used was a brand-new, previously unknown phenomenon that I'd discovered on my own, he gave me fifty points.

It's funny, though, that the Latro hadn't been described before. Anyone would have thought that where there are positive emotions embodied, the logical step is to find out whether negative emotions can be treated the same way. And yet it was my lucky guess, and not a library book (the normal way) that discovered this thing for me. Oh, and the Latin dictionary, of course. The joy I felt when I found the word "latro" and realised it's exactly the right gender and declension! And then, when I stood in that deserted corridor and cast the spell without any real hope of success, and that huge black shape exploded right in front of me! Those were among the few moments of pure and undoubted triumph that I've had in my life.

Why, why, WHY does every full-moon night turn into a trip into history?! And always accompanied by the Ghost of Severus Past.

**April 2, Friday**

End of term begins. Had my last lessons with the fourth-year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, gave them some holiday work. Two items off my inner worry list, eight to go.

**April 3, Saturday**

Aaarrrrrrggh!!! I'm panicking! I quite suddenly realised, I mean really realised, that we're starting the last week of the term on Monday! I've been feeling so pressed for time lately I uncharacteristically sat down and started planning in advance a couple of weeks ago, trying to see how much I'll be able to cram into those last classes, and that left me feeling like I won't be able to cram in anything at all. Anyway. There's the whole of the summer term to look forward to, so we'll catch up on anything we've missed. But this feeling of being in a hurry is very unpleasant! Also, it's quite amazing, the way the workload seems to be overwhelmingly huge, it feels like you have a class every two hours day in and day out; and then you realise you've hardly had the time to teach them anything! Right, I'll stop fretting and go to bed, and spend what remains of the weekend in peaceful calm, trying not to think about teaching.

**April 4, Sunday**

Been to the village library again, borrowed more Muggle books. Here's what I've already read this year (academic):

- Howl's Moving Castle and Castle in the Air – I liked the first much better

- The Hitchhikers Guide to the Universe – too Muggle to be thoroughly enjoyable for a wizard, but still very nice

- The Colour of Magic and The Light Fantastic – they were great! I cunningly made duplicates of the books before returning them as I fully intent to reread them. The language there!

- The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole and The Growing Pains of Adrian Mole – very Muggle, too, but sweet

- Wuthering Heights – rereading the classics.

- The Great Gatsby – I picked it because I used to know a guy called Gatsby at school, and I was wondering whether he became famous enough for Muggles to write a book about him! Don't regret it, either.

- The Spire – reliving the experience. I first read it when I was twenty, I think, and was glad to find that the stunning impression I got then has not been diminished by the years past.

- First Light, Hawksmoor and The Last Testament of Oscar Wilde – Peter Ackroyd rules. FL was the first one I read, picking it a little randomly, but it put me onto Ackroyd and I don't regret it. Sadly, our village library only has three books by him. And of course, since I needed some background reading to appreciate The Last Testament, I also read

- The Picture of Dorian Gray and a few other things by Wilde. Curse being an ignorant wizard! Imagine discovering the incomparable Oscar Wilde at the age of thirty-four! Decadent, admittedly, and often too ornate, but still exquisite.

- Dracula – not what I'd call a realistic story, and pretty boring from the middle on, but ah! the descriptions of sweet North Yorkshire!

- The Call of Cthulhu – left a controversial impression. The language is beautiful, perhaps too much so even; but the subject leaves one rather cold, even though it's supposed to be a work of great impact and describe things of cosmic horror.

Sorry, got distracted there for a bit. It was Mrs Norris, I'd promised to bring her a few things she needed from the village, and then we just talked.

**April 5, Monday**

Disaster. Dumbledore has been deposed. Umbridge is Headmistress. Disaster.

It all took place about two hours ago, as it happens. The good thing is that he's not been arrested or anything, he's just gone, having stunned half the Ministry that Fudge had brought along with him in the process. Well, it was stupid to come and interfere, no? Sev. said he thinks D will send word as to his whereabouts to the Order members soon.

**April 6, Tuesday**

Ha ha ha. Dumbledore's office refused to open itself to Umbridge. To revenge herself (I think), she's knocked together a band of devoted students (including the Malfoy gang) and given them the absurdly pretentious title of Inquisitorial Squad, so they wander around the school taking points off everyone they meet. Also, she has apparently been labouring hard to win Mr Filch over to her side. He's being so disgusting that even Mrs Norris has been round to complain.

And then complete mayhem reigned, because the Weasley twins decided to hold a Headmistresship-warming party for Madam Umbridge by setting off an enormous number of animated fireworks. Rare fun. And of course nobody minds. The fireworks have invaded the whole castle, flying here and there, whizzing into classrooms, both my third-year classes were disrupted. However, I did not let that dampen my spirits, but dispatched a student to fetch the Headmistress, as indeed did all the other teachers whose classrooms were filled with fireworks and as we had agreed during the break. Dear old Flitwick topped us all: I was passing within earshot of his classroom and out comes a very angry, sooty-looking Umbridge, and he says: "Thanks! I could have got rid of the sparklers myself, of course, but I wasn't sure whether I had the authority or not!" Unsuspected reserves of evil wit inside that tiny wizard!

Anyway, the day's been complete havoc, so I'm really tired, but at the same time mischievously happy.

**April 7, Wednesday**

Fucking hell. As if the week wasn't messy enough. At about six, I felt a huge stab of pain – nearly was sick, and realised something'd gone spectacularly wrong with Sev. I didn't even waste time running up and down staircases, I just Flooed to his office. I haven't seen him in a worse state for a very long time, maybe since the time when Black escaped from Hogwarts – but no, even then he was just furious. Today, he was quite beside himself. It took me quite a lot of time to actually extricate a coherent description of what had happened from him. Harry Potter, the boy whom I had started to respect, had broken into Sev.'s memories, which Sev. had removed from his mind for safety's sake during the Occlumency lesson and put into the Pensieve, and witnessed the disastrous day when Black and Potter hung him upside down naked after the D.A.D.A. exam. When I came to his office, he was nothing short of deranged. Like last time, he was hurling things off the shelves, but he didn't stop whatever I could do – shout at him, slap his cheeks or throw water over him. Finally I had to grab his forearms, immobilising him; it all looked like a tragic scene from an early Muggle movie, I imagine; then he swayed, fell down on his knees and started crying. No, not crying, sobbing. Howling. Then we had the usual horrible scene, though admittedly even more horrible than usual, alternating between me kneeling opposite him, holding him, the shoulder of my tee-shirt getting damp with his desperate tears, and me watching helplessly as he strode round the office, shouting curses against all people living and dead, first and foremost myself. This time he was so mad he even hit me when I tried to reason with him, breaking my lip and sending me crashing into a shelving unit. When I picked myself up and tried to leave, he grabbed my wrist so hard he nearly broke it and forced me back into the room: "You're not going anywhere!" I cried out in pain and he stopped, let go of my wrist, then embraced me convulsively and whispered: "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Rick, I'm sorry, you're the only one who really cares, and I just hurt you all the time..." I patted him gingerly on the back, but he pushed me away roughly and the next thing I knew he was screaming that he hated me.

He's mad. He's utterly deranged.

I'm used to that, of course, but it was damn hard to stay (relatively) cool and collected this time, because my head was swimming with his agony the way it hasn't for a long, long time – perhaps since the very start of all this, since his early post-DE period. In the end, it took me about two and a half hours to make sure he's calmed down, more or less, and to restore the office. He was in full-blown hysterics, I was scared.

If we both only get a half of what he's feeling each, how would he have felt if I wasn't there for him?..

Humiliation, that's what it was. At the start of our relationship, it was humiliation at being helped by me. This time, well it's obvious.

Relationship. Sounds like we're lovers. Ugh! Yuck!

**April 9, Friday**

Oh dear. The start of the Easter holidays. Looks like I've got more work planned for the hols than I had for the term. Lousy. And of course the constant burning pain in my temples doesn't help. It subsided a little, but it's still there. I do hope he gets over it soon and gives me some time to relax during the hols.

Oh, and I remembered Aunt Isolde's b.d. and sent her a card and some chocolates. I'm not very imaginative in my choice of gifts, I know.

**April 11, Sunday**

I seem to be spending my entire so-called holiday time reading yards upon yards of parchment with translations and the various special projects that I set to the more advanced groups. Most are feeble. My group's aren't bad – well, at least the ones I'd received so far, from Hermione Granger, Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass, but they were essays. The translations though!.. I'm keeping a roll of parchment by my side that I fill gradually with the student's more heinous productions, and then share them with the other teachers. A very Snapeish thing to do, I admit, but I seem to be at the end of my tether these days. Well, it's more or less my own fault. No-one actually made me do these special projects with them!

The good thing is that Sev.'s apparently decided to take the cold hatred line about the Pensieve episode. I'm glad. Cold hatred doesn't hurt quite so much.

**April 15, Thursday**

Even though it's the holidays, my colleagues still celebrate their birthdays! Some of the teachers are gone for the holidays, but those of us who are here had a very good time today in the staff room drinking the champagne that Prof. Vector brought to celebrate her special day.

I wonder how those of the colleagues who have birthdays in the summer deal with the situation. My own is late enough in August to enable me to celebrate it at school. But, say, Fergus and Aurora have theirs in July. I think they probably just save some gold on the wine and sweets.

**April 20, Tuesday**

Marking and marking and reading and reading. Sev.'s come round, said he just wants to be around me. He's now half-lying on my bed and reading one of my books. What's the bloody point of coming over and lying silently reading a book on your host's bed? And yet, I feel very comfortable.

**April 26, Sunday **

Last day of holidays. Had a very strange experience today: as I was shaving, I looked at myself in the mirror and suddenly wondered how my students perceive me. I stared at my reflection for a long time, until I could alienate myself from it and see it as someone else. And I didn't like the man too much, you know. He looked sullen and far from good-looking. The lips were thin and sort of cruel, and the straggly hair hung over his eyes, obscuring them. I pushed the hair out of the face, but that didn't make things better, because there was a crease between his eyebrows that made him look faintly menacing. Disgusted, I shook the hair back into my face and went away from the bathroom.

**April 28, Tuesday **

Mother's birthday. Apparated to Lighthouse Cottage in the evening. Sat there for about an hour, looking at the sea, then flew and walked around a little in the moors. Picked some flowers, put them on the graves, then cleared the ruin a little of dead leaves and twigs. She liked this time of year so much – said she was lucky to have her birthday in April.

**May 2, Saturday**

Full moon

'Nuff said.

**May 5, Tuesday**

Resumed German. A student came up after the lesson and asked if the course would continue next year, because he'd only just realised he wanted to learn German! He said she'd learn the whole textbook during the summer and would very much like to join us next year. I said he's welcome if he manages that.

**May**** 13****, Wednesday **

Tomorrow's Aunt Vivienne's birthday. Maybe I should visit. No, I don't think I can cope with Aunt Vi on top of three classes. I'll send her some flowers.

**May 17, Sunday **

Oh my, dear diary, I've been neglecting you shamelessly. I just didn't have the time or the energy to keep up with detailed diary writing. So, what happened so far: Easter holidays (partly covered in previous entries) – incredibly gloomy, during which I contacted the panel that will be present at the OWL and marked an endless stream of essays and translations, most of which were awful; then the first day of the term was marked by another performance of the Weasleys', who created a first-class swamp in a corridor and then departed, disappearing triumphantly into the sunset; and of course everyone's trying to wreak as much havoc now in Umbridge's school as they can without those two unparalleled masters. It's been amusing for a while but now it's become rather exhausting. It's boring when you are likely to slip on a Dungbomb every few feet of the corridor. The whole school smells of dung and Stink Pellets, which gives me an endless dull headache. And Peeves is going wild. He takes care never to annoy me personally, after our last little chat on April 1, but he's all over the place, dropping statues, torturing poor Mrs Norris, singing stupid songs etc. I have a distinct feeling some teachers are actually encouraging him (as if he needed that!), and maybe for the first time in my life I tend to take Sev.'s stand on the issue of discipline. This is all really too much, especially when there's a month left before the exams. I'm getting very tired, very low on concentration. Weather's terrible, too: one hour the sky's completely overcast, the next it's sunshine – my head hasn't been clear for a week, and I just keep wanting to drop off to sleep every time I sit down anywhere. Had absolutely no rest during the holidays, either. Wish the term would end sooner. Usually, it feels like there's about two weeks' space between April 1 and May 31, but this term just draws on and on endlessly.

**May 18, Monday**

Waiting for the WSM in the staff room. The Headmistress is somewhat late. We're just chatting. I really like these chats, they make me feel so at home here. Although I must admit I'm getting slightly bored by Prof. Vector talking about her children all the time.

Ah, U's there.

After: She asked us to fill in a form stating which days we would prefer for our classes next year and which days we would like to keep free. All I could manage was a nervous laugh. Free days?! There's no time for free time this term, even, so what's the point in asking what days I would like to keep free next year when there'll be more groups? Oh, I hope nobody will be starting Runes next term. I do suspect, however, that they will. A couple of youngsters have already come up to me between classes and asked whether the course will be on the syllabus next year. Well, didn't Sevvie warn me against being popular with students!

I wonder, though, what the distinguished Headmistress wants to give us free days for. It's not like her. I have a sneaking suspicion that they won't be quite as "free" as she makes out. More mad paperwork, most likely.

**May 19, Tuesday**

Writing this in class. My last but one German lesson, and I've set them a final test for the whole period. They are sitting there, scribbling furiously, it's a pleasure to watch them. From time to time, they whisper to one another, shooting glances at me covertly, thinking I don't see them, silly little creatures.

They're all the same! I've been rereading the diary to keep myself amused, and there's an identical entry in February. I'm stuck in a rut!

**May 20, Wednesday**

It's been a nice, warm day. I collected all the parchments I had to read and mark, went outside into the grounds and did them sitting under a tree on the lawn. It was great, but then my peace and calm were interrupted. I was well-hidden behind the trunk, and at one point, I could hear laughter and twittering and suddenly a group of girls hove into view, and they didn't see me, apparently, because they didn't pay me a slightest bit of attention, just went on chattering about boys, and one of them said: "Well, yes, but I wish he had a lean bottom, like Heald", and they all went "oooh, mmm, tee-hee-hee"; and then one of them turned round, recognised me, squeaked, gave her neighbour a nudge, they all went red, fell silent and then said awkwardly in an unsteady chorus, "Oh, hello, Professor...", then moved quickly away. They are so absurd.

Well, that's only natural, after all. They say girls like to think about older wizards in these terms, and what's the choice for them here? Hagrid's too wild, Flitwick too small, Dumbledore too old, Severus... hmmm, let's not underline the obvious. Which only leaves Mr Filch (enough said), Fergus Merrythought, who is probably a bit too young to be considered an older wizard, and me.

Lean bottom, though. Ha. That's only because I don't wear robes, ladies. Sevvie's lean, too, but nobody sees it underneath his mantle! Anyway, jeans and leather trousers make almost any arse look trim and fit.

**May 22, Friday**

The classes are gradually drawing to an end, thank Heaven! We're mainly spending the time revising in all the classes, therefore there's not much to do by way of preparing for lessons, which is a relief. On the other hand, there's this unending stream of essays etc that crave my attention...

**May 25, Monday**

Just sat through this term's last weekly staff meeting! Yesssss! She's been talking a lot about what we're supposed to do next September, but I didn't pay any attention, truth to tell, just stared out of the window. Anyway she's given out handouts this time with all her aims, etc. I'll look at them later. Maybe.

**May 26, Tuesday **

Full moon

Had my last German class this term. I'm very happy with them, and they seem to be happy with me. I can't provide them with any certificates, but they don't seem to be too depressed about that, either. We've parted in the best of spirits; the seventh-years looked sad, and both of them said they'd try to find a way to carry on studying German.

Evening: Oh no! More essays! Augh... The most important thing is not to fall asleep over them. They alone are liable to give me nightmares, full moon or no full moon.

**May 27, Wednesday**

Deadly tired. Just dragged myself home from a four-hour session at the Society of Ancient Tongues, the larger part of which was taken by a viva voce of two girls wishing to become Doctors of our accursed art, Natalie Andrews and Annabel Brocklehurst (Mandy Brocklehurst must be a relative). Natalie is my sister in Ruthwell, so he asked me to be one of her examiners. Annabel was a student of my other hero (heroine), Welta Franks-Caskett, and she also asked me to be an examiner. As a result, I had to sit there for the whole duration of the disputation, listening to the girls, listening to Egil and Welta, listening to the other examiners (one of them droned on for ages, reading off what seemed like eight rolls of parchment!), and then finally taking the floor with my – rather short – reviews. Interesting discussions, too, but really very long. Then there was a ceremonial dinner, of course. I only managed to get away at about half past nine. I thought I'd have a really early night, what with not having slept yesterday (was actually dreaming of it during the disputation), but now that I'm home, the sleepiness is gone, although the tiredness remains. Hate it when it gets like this. Am going to force myself to bed anyway.

Can't face the thought of getting up at eight and teaching tomorrow.

**May 30, Saturday**

Tried to amuse myself by going to the Quidditch match (R vs G), shouted myself hoarse with "Go Ravenclaw", and what do you think? The dreadful Gryffindor team, the losers that they became minus Harry Potter and the Weasleys, won and got the Cup! That's unfair.

In the afternoon, decided to just forget about everything and go for a fly. Don't regret it either. It's been a lovely day, and I flew for two hours, which ventilated my brain beautifully. However, I think I'm going mad anyway. I saw something that looked like a giant, well, giant moving in the Forest. Must be hallucinating.


	9. June

**June 4, Thursday**

Borrowed a Muggle book from the library again to think about something else rather than essays and things, and ironically enough found a very accurate description of my feelings concerning them: just look at this: "... it was the usual business: page after page of ill-written, unidiomatic, irrelevant twaddle, which it was his assignment to plough through (and almost certainly to plough), marking in red ink the myriad errors of grammar, syntax, construction, spelling and punctuation." Well, maybe mine are not all that bad, but it was a funny coincidence nevertheless.

**June 6, Saturday**

Sorry I've been neglecting you again, dear diary. No time to record things, or, indeed, any point in doing that. It's been just reviewing and reviewing for exams, in all classes, and reading and reading essays after classes. And thinking about the OWLs! Gaaaaaaaaah! OWLs! Oh, I'm so scared when I think about them.

**June 7, Sunday**

Got up at half past eleven and spent a very pleasurable day, unsullied by any essays (done them all. Well, I say all, all that I've been given yet.), doing vocabulary work for Egil all day for a change.

Oh no! Two more special projects have just arrived.

**June 8, Monday**

Ghastly day. Had to read those two projects last night, as a consequence I feel like I haven't slept at all. My head feels like a giant lump of clay. All I want to do is get back to my chambers and lie down in the dark – I'm not so naive as to think that I'll sleep, it's perfectly obvious that I won't – but at least to lie down and close my eyes and not to think about anything. I'll have to ask Sev. in more detail about that technique of purging your mind of thought and emotion. All I do these last few days is worry all the time.

Just staggered up home with a sheaf of further translations. I. Will. Die.

**June 9, Tuesday**

Tired. Tired. I can't wait for the term to end. I haven't been so exhausted by June in all my years as a teacher. There are dangerously tottering piles of parchment all over the desk and even around it, and I haven't got any strength to clear up. Actually, I do clear it up from time to time, only to accumulate an even larger pile by next evening. Whatever induced me to set so many essays? How did the idea of special projects even come into my mind? Or German classes, for that matter? Why did I set the deadline for June 11, didn't I know that they'd wait right until this time and dump all their work on me in the last week, so that I'll have to spend nights on end marking, while at the same time fighting down the gut-freezing, blind terror about the impending exam on Friday? The only result I get is that I've become irascible and ready to fly off the handle at the slightest provocation.

And they do deserve it too sometimes – looks like some people just think that all they have to do to translate is to substitute English words for Norse ones, and when it doesn't make sense they invent freely, adding meanings that the words never had and massacring English style ruthlessly. I wish they had classes in English, actually, they could profit from a bit of formal training, both in public speaking and in writing.

**June 10, Wednesday**

My room's a complete chaos! Just now: in front of me: diary, notebook, two essays that I must read asap. To the right: several Runes notebooks, assorted quills, small scraps of parchment, in a disorderly pile. To the left: four more essays, three translations, text for tomorrow's lessons, sheaf of spare parchments, two books, cup of tea. Even more to the left: pile of foolscap, three dictionaries, knife. And that's only the desk. On the floor beside the armchair: five books that I bought yesterday, Kitezh report, guide to Heathrow Airport, Terminal 2 (why? what's it doing there?). On the mantel: music-box. In the armchair: wand (must remember not to sit on it). On the bed: fur cloak, Mrs Norris.

I used to think I was an orderly person. What a sad disillusionment!

**June 11, Thursday**

Right. Stop worrying!

Tomorrow's the day. I have classes but I won't conduct them, whatever U may say. I won't physically be able to take the first period, and I rather fear that I won't be able to take the third psychologically. I hope they can take care of themselves for an hour and a half.

Not to forget:

tonight:

- leave task on tables for Hs

tomorrow morning:

- open classroom

- tell fourth-years (G Creevey, H Smith) what to do during breakfast

- collect parchments after class, leave task no. 2 for Gs

- collect parchments after class

AND STOP PANICKING!

d s d s d s d s d s d s d s d s d s d s

**June 12, Friday**

The Great Day. Merlin, I'm nervous.

I woke up sick with anxiety and only managed to get down a glass of orange juice at breakfast. I haven't been so scared since my own OWLs, I think. After breakfast, I greeted the panel in the Hall, having even donned my mantle for the occasion – I thought that my being formally dressed would make a better impression. Gave me a bit of confidence, too, because I was dead scared of the panel myself. They allowed me to have a peek at the text they were going to set, and I really really hope that my group haven't fallen into any of the several little traps in it. I let the kids in one by one, and then walked the grounds restlessly for two hours, cutting a rather ridiculous figure, I fear, with the purple mantle flapping behind me in the wind. After the two hours were up, I came back, watched the kids file out. They looked exhausted but mostly relieved, some smiling, but others, like Hermione Granger, apprehensive. She had her nose buried in the exam paper; I asked her how it went, and she looked up at me, paused, with a look of purest horror slowly suffusing her face, then went "Oh, Professor!", stamped her foot, blinking back tears, and ran away upstairs.

Oh dear oh dear. I do hope they haven't failed. I may be a lousy teacher, for all I know. Actually, I think I'm having a full-blown proficiency crisis here. How do I know I actually taught them anything? The fact that they seemed to enjoy the lessons means nothing at all, as Sev. reminds me constantly. It may mean that the lessons are in fact quite useless. The special projects they did were quite all right, but that may be totally due to their own research powers, and not to my efforts. It was better with English at Durmstrang – at least there I could tell if I'd been successful: by the end of the year, they had mastered this or that syntactic construction or this or that list of words and could use them with ease, that was easy to monitor. But here? It's all too abstract. The beginners are the only group where there's any sort of clarity: zero level to something. With the more advanced groups though... I wish I'd made them write something like "things learnt this term" at the last lesson.

Hell, now a whole month of agonised waiting lies before me. I'll die of shame if they've failed.

**June 13, Saturday **

Completely weird day. I had no more projects to mark, and the exams haven't started yet, so I spent the day being completely and utterly idle – reading, listening to music, drinking tea and staring out of the window over the damp Forest. By the end of the day, I'm jaw-breakingly sleepy and desperately bored. Apparently I shouldn't have been moaning about having too much to do, since nothing to do affects me even worse. Maybe I'll go and find an essay to read.

**June 14, Sunday**

Been for a very long walk/fly, trying not to think about exams or anything.

**June 16, Tuesday**

Began ordinary exams today. Third-years were the first. Fourth-years tomorrow and Friday, and beginners on Wednesday. I wanted to make them completely and utterly practical, preferably as oral as possible (I mean what's the point?), but U insisted at the meeting two weeks ago that there must be a "material" trace left by the students and that they have to show their grasp of theory as well as practice. She suggests that they can pass a practical exam by sheer fluke. (Well, from what I've heard about her own methods of teaching, there's nothing here to be surprised about.) Moreover, she hinted at going through the parchments herself and deciding whether we've shown enough pedagogical skill in compiling and marking them. (Insert long, long bleep here. Thank you.) So what it amounts to is that I'll have to set them all written translations and some theory questions, and consequently mark them all within a space of barely two weeks, since the results are to be announced before the End-of-Term Feast, which is on June 26. Ten days. I do feel a little easier after the OWL, slightly calmer, but this is still a hell of a lot to do.

Evening: Now this is really beyond anything I've ever witnessed in my life! Outrageous! Umbridge decided to sack Hagrid (in the dead of night!), to which end she took four Aurors along with her, and when McGonagall tried to intervene they STUNNED HER!!!!!!! Stunned the Deputy Headmistress! Stunned an old lady! I'm quite speechless with rage. Next time I see Umbridge I'll probably hit her.

**June 17, Wednesday**

Action. Am on duty. Will write later if survive. Hope a raven sitting on U's window-ledge won't attract anyone's attention.

Back in human form for short while to stretch my limbs. All stiff after perching on ledge. So far: HP had another vision – Black and Lord V in Dept of Mysteries. Apparently went to U's office to contact Gr.P., and U got him. She tried to extricate truth from him with Veritaserum, called Sev. but he said he didn't have any. She put him on probation (haha!). Then Harry told Sev. in code what he'd seen. Sev. sure it's a trap. He contacted Sirius and he's at Gr.P. all right. Now gone to Lord V, promised to be back soon. I'm to keep guard over things here, which am doing at the moment.

Will keep record of events just in case.

Development: HP, HG gone with U. I've followed them, they're gone to Forest. Right, and the rest of them have just broken out. Some commotion in the Forest.

S back, it was a trap. HP and Co. still not returned from Forest. S has alerted Kingsley, Tonks, Lupin and Moody at HQ. Black to remain behind and inform D. S now spearheads search through Forest, although fears they're gone to Ministry. HP the only person apart from V who can touch prophecy, so V apparently lured him there to retrieve it.

Bloody hell, a Death Eater attack and six students gone missing! Well, at least it makes a change from marking.

More later.

**June 18, Thursday **

Voldemort is out into the open. Officially recognised now. There was a full-blown battle yesterday night at the Ministry, Harry Potter and his friends and the Order members against several Death Eaters. We won. Nearly all D.E.s captured (Bellatrix Lestrange escaped), Ministry sees the light. The Prophecy, which was of course the weapon Lord V was after, destroyed beyond recovery. Tonks wounded – will be all right soon. Dumbledore back as Headmaster.

But.

We lost one man.

Sirius Black is dead. Sirius Black is dead. D E A D. Gone. No more.

He got himself killed by Bellatrix Lestrange, of all people, his own cousin, during the fight. They say he fought like a lion but unfortunately it was all taking place in the Hall of Death or whatever it's called down in the Myst. Dept., and he wasn't actually even killed – a curse she used hit him and knocked him over through that arch they have there (I thought they

were legends!), and he was gone. Just gone. They didn't even recover his body, he just disappeared. There could be room for hope, but unfortunately they say the archway is a channel to the Otherworld, so he was actually sent flying directly into Death itself. One doesn't come back from across that border.

I've surprised myself by being incredibly shocked and grieved by the news.

Lupin's in a very bad state. Everyone had to vacate HQ because we don't know if Sirius's death caused it to return to the Black family – and it might go to Bellatrix! – so D thought it better to clear out. We temporarily dumped all the belongings in my flat. Lupin helped me move them, he's restless but he doesn't talk to anyone, mostly uses gestures to communicate, and that sparingly. He's alone now. I wish I could help, but what can I say? All I can think of now, if truth be told, is that I really really hope that my mutual dislike with Black will not mutate into enmity with Lupin. He's a wizard I would hate to be enemies with.

Sev., for once, has the decency not to mention this at all. I don't know if he's happy – he's definitely not sorry overmuch, but if he does gloat he does it when I'm not around.

**June 19, Friday **

Seems sort of stupid to record small everyday occurrences after Wednesday's events. They look really unimportant alongside the actual war that's begun. This time, it will be different. Last time, fifteen years ago, I was away from things, a young apprentice scholar buried in books, and then quite physically away in Sweden. Now though... I may be dead this time next year.

**June 21, Sunday**

McGonagall's back! Sev.'s in a huff. He was just going to set a detention to Harry Potter when she arrived (Gryffindor being totally devoid of points at that moment, due to the effort exerted by the Inquisitorial Squad, apparently), and when he uncharacteristically rushed forward to welcome her, she awarded Gryffindor about three hundred points! He thinks it was a calculated insult, and says things like "See? This is what I get when I try to behave what you call normally." I tried to explain that his wish to help McG up the stairs and her giving points to Gryffindor are completely unrelated, but he's adamant.

**June 24**

Full moon

**June 26, Friday **

End of term. Very mixed emotions. I still get a pang when my thoughts turn to Black. I wish I'd been kinder to him – I wish I'd approached him sooner with my armistice suggestion. At the same time, I'm endlessly grateful that I did in fact do it, because otherwise it would have been even more dreadful. Someone's death takes away your last chance to make peace with them. I'm glad at least I've tried. Also, I derive some little consolation from the fact that he really did go like a brave man and a true warrior. He deserved a noble death.

However, my vindictiveness and Shadenfreude were satisfied no end with what happened to Umbridge. She was given a great send-off. (Gloating is bad, I know. Actually, is she any different from Black with respect to my dislike?... yes, of course she is. Black used to put me down when he was a sixteen-year-old prat or when he was a slightly unbalanced, embittered ex-convict. She, a grown woman, put me, and all of us, down, while she had power over us. I really have no charity for her.) Anyway, so what happened was that Harry Potter and Hermione Granger lured her into the Forest, prior to their departure to the Ministry, and she got carried off by Centaurs. No-one knows what happened, because she got back unscathed (Dumbledore brought her out, to be more precise, – carried her out), but in a state of deep shock. She stayed in the infirmary for a while and then, seeing that she didn't fit in with the atmosphere at all, what with D back and everything, she tried to sneak out so that no one would notice, but Peeves did. The rest can be imagined with little difficulty.

After all that's happened, it's really wild to be thinking about such things as teaching and exam results and plans for next term. However, since D says we are not closing down, I have to be thinking about them. I'll have to begin NEWT preparation classes with those who get through their OWLs. I think I'll take those who have an Acceptable upwards. Two years is a lot of time to improve before the NEWTs. I'll have to prepare a programme for them... maybe not though – there'll be no Umbridge! I'll have a look at Bathsheba's.

**June 27, Saturday**

School's empty. The students have gone home for the summer. The teachers are also leaving one by one. I'm going to spend the summer in London, I hope I'll be able to rest a little.

Dammit, I keep forgetting. What rest, for Merlin's sake? It hasn't sunk in yet that we're in the state of open warfare now.

We'll see what the summer will bring.


	10. September Again

**August 31, Saturday**

Full moon

So there. Bad habits die hard. Last year, I bought a notebook and started a diary randomly, to fill it up. This year, I bought one specially to write a diary. Let's see if this year turns out to be as eventful as the last... not that there's much doubt about it – unfortunately.

I'm still a teacher, right? When I say 'year', I mean academic year, obviously.

So, what news since the previous diary? Well, I'm still teaching at Hogwarts. Also, the war is continuing, it's all very bleak and dreadful out there, but up here we don't seem to be affected at all, so I'm afraid I might be a bit complacent about what's going on and not really feel the horror of it all. We're in working mode, the children are arriving tomorrow, everything going as planned. There are some staff changes though: a new lady, Charity Burbage, has taken up the post of Muggle Studies teacher (Fergus Merrythought got married in the summer and left – well, I did say he wouldn't stay single for long!), and also there are some more changes of a much more unexpected nature. We have another new colleague, or rather an old colleague who has made a comeback: Prof. Slughorn is back, and he is to teach Potions. And Severus is teaching... drum roll... Defence Against the Dark Arts! At long last! I'd known for quite a while, he told me about a month ago, but asked me to keep it quiet, so the Head's announcement at the term's first staff meeting yesterday caused quite a stir. I just wonder what kept D from appointing him many years ago and not bothering with all those strange people who have taught so far – from what I've heard, only Lupin was a more or less tolerable teacher. (Well, I have heard it from S himself, so I might be a bit biased. A bit!) It's just that if it is jinxed, as they insist, why appoint him at all? D has always seemed to be rather fond of S. I asked Sev., but he parries all my questions about his new job with a curious half-smile and blank silence. Obviously, I hope that the post is not jinxed and it's all just publicity, although it beats me why he should think he needs any. As if anyone doubted his courage! Strange person.

Oh yes, and we have a new Minister for Magic, too. Fudge has been forced to resign because he was very demonstrably losing his grip, and replaced by Rufus Scrimgeour, the erstwhile Head of the Auror Office. So I really hope that, what with his experience, he'll be more efficient in this time of war.

Oh yes, and I've turned thirty-five. It's supposed to be an important landmark, right? I wonder if I'm officially middle-aged now. I definitely don't feel middle-aged. I feel like I'm about nineteen.

**September 1, Sunday**

Start of another year. The children will be arriving by Hogwarts Express as per usual. This is so strange, there's a full-scale war on, and we're going to have the start-of-term feast and give out timetables and everything.

By the way, apropos timetables, this is what mine looks like this year. The prospective NEWTs have two classes a week, which is only appropriate, I think. And I'm very happy I've got almost all day free on Monday because I can continue German, and my conscience does not trouble me any more (I'd thought, before I got my timetable, that I'd have to go back on my word and cancel it in spite of the kids' repeated pleas to continue last year).

Mon

Tue

Wed

Thu

Fri

9.00-10.30

6-years

10.40-12.10

4 R

5H

6-years

5G

12.20-13.50

4 S

5R

3 H+S

5S

14.50-16.20

4 H+G

3 G+R

17.30-19.00

German

Good job they aren't arriving until late in the evening, actually. I think I'll go and catch up on my sleep. I'm not feeling tired, but I don't want to start suddenly nodding off during the Feast either.

**September 2, Monday**

Made a very unpleasant discovery. I've been given a wandering classroom for my pre-NEWT classes! Every day, it moves to a different and completely unpredictable location within the castle. (This time, it was on the highest floor of the Astronomy Tower, right under the roof.) So what happens is that I'll have to go down to Mr Filch's office every Monday and Thursday morning and ask him where the room is to be found. Heaven be praised at least it's just for these two classes, all the rest are still in my own room. I wonder why I was given it at all. Tradition, I suppose. Probably someone has to use it every year, otherwise something dreadful will happen.

By the way, I forgot to record that all of my OWL students got results from Acceptable upwards, so I'm taking them all back. I think I'll have plenty of time to lick them into shape, what with two classes a week and two years to go. They'll have to work hard, of course. Had to give them quite a huge home assignment today, but that's for their own good: if they read these books at the very outset, it'll be much easier for them to follow the programme afterwards.

Later: Oh joy. Life's completely back to normal. Sev. has just come into the staff room, wearing his usual cold sneer that betokens a lesson well spent in his estimation, that is, one accompanied by about fifty points taken off or a couple of detentions handed out. He's had a fight with Harry Potter. It's their first bloody day back, and he's had a fight with Harry Potter. That's what I call having a thing about somebody.

I've had notices put up that German will be resumed in two weeks. I just don't think I can cope with all of that at once.

Prof. Slughorn is an interesting addition to the staff room ambience, I must say. Very fat, very vociferous and discreetly dropping sweet wrappers wherever he sits.

**September 3, Tuesday**

We've had a visit paid on us today by the new Minister for Magic. He arrived – to talk to the Headmaster, of course – during one of the breaks, we were all in the staff room, and suddenly the door opened and Dumbledore came in, accompanied by the man we'd seen on the front page of the Prophet that very morning. I liked him, actually. He looked like a man of action. He's apparently been through a lot: he's got a limp and his face is scarred, not as bad as Moody's, but still. I remember Moody mentioned him once, in a positive way, as a no-nonsense, seasoned old Auror. That was before he became Minister, though. So anyway: Scrimgeour walked into the room, said hello, said he'd come to talk to Dumbledore but would like to use the opportunity to greet us all since he felt it was his duty as the new Minister to be personally acquainted with the people who were in charge of magical education. I must say he sounded as if he meant it, not as if he wanted to flatter us. Actually, I thought him a bit gruff at the start, or at least not the sort of person to waste time on diplomatic niceties. Then he walked around the room, shaking each teacher's hand, recognising those who had taught him (Flitwick, Slughorn) and getting introduced by the Head to those he didn't know, and exchanging a few words with each of us in turn. When he reached me and shook my hand as Dumbledore introduced me (I liked his handshake, firm and bony), he looked at me hard, his brow furrowed, then said: 'I think we've met before, haven't we?' I couldn't remember, but then he said, 'Weren't you brought in for questioning to the Auror Headquarters last summer? I think Nymphadora Tonks was in charge of you?' Then I realised he must have been at the Auror HQ when Tonks had been interrogating me, and even dimly remembered seeing him around, but of course I'd been trying so hard to be obnoxious and rude, and also, truth to tell, I'd been so scared, that his face hadn't registered at all. If he'd said anything to me, I'd have remembered, he's got a very pleasant Scottish accent. Anyway, I said: 'I was cleared of all charges, Minister.' 'Yes,' he said, 'I know, Doctor Heald,' smiled slightly at my amazement and moved on to talk to Prof. Sprout. That's what I call professionalism. He heard my name once and remembered it, my face and the way I had corrected Tonks when she had called me Mr Heald at the start of our interview; and he hadn't even been present at the interrogation! (I had corrected her because, as I said, I had been being obnoxious, the plan being to terrorise her, or, rather, to have every other Auror hear me terrorise her. As can be seen, the plan had worked! Of course I had apologised profusely to her that very evening at the Order HQ.) I really believe we are in better hands than Fudge's now. I hope Scrimgeour can hold back the chaos and disruption.

Later: I was curious, so I borrowed the Headmaster's Pensieve and relived the scene of my interrogation. I was really awful to poor Tonks! The expression on my face... And yes, Scrimgeour was a partition away, in the adjoining cubicle, listening curiously. It's bloody weird to see yourself walking and talking from the outside, I must say!

**September 4, Wednesday**

Welcoming old groups back one by one. Incredibly, not all of the information I gave them last year seems to have been obliterated from their brains!

**September 5, Thursday**

Seen my new beginners today. Quite a lot of them, there are more of them than there were last year. And very, very different levels. Here's the list.

Gryffindor/Ravenclaw (whom I liked more):

1. Ingrid Hamburg (R) – a bit slow, perhaps, but with a very engaging smile, and I think she has potential if she's made to work.

2. Zoe Worming (R) – poor girl, a name like that!.. she's very bright and very active.

3. Keira Thewlis (R) – sits together with Zoe; looks like that table will be the centre of any activity in the classroom!

4. Karen Arklyne (R) – not very active, but somehow she looked promising to me.

5. Miles Elgar (G) – very active, very clever, very arrogant. He's older than the rest (two years older from what I've heard – lived abroad with his parents until this year, and not just anywhere abroad but in Norway) and has had some prior experience, and presumably thinks he's the best in the class by definition. Potential order-breaker, really. He's definitely a spoilt child, and his behaviour doesn't bode well at all. He kept asking questions with a very obvious desire to catch me saying something wrong.

6. Bernard Phillipson (G) – quiet, presumably hardworking.

7. Stephen Shepherd (G) – dishevelled, jovial, again looks like a promising student, if he works, that is.

8. Saskia Kerringwood (R) – a bit uncertain but looks willing to learn.

9. Alice Yarman (R) – nice girl, quiet but clever.

10. Mary Peters (G) – haven't formed an impression so far.

11. Katherine Marshall (G) – said she was very interested but looks like a person who has difficulties concentrating. We'll see how it goes.

12. Victoria Collins (G) – seems to be all right, but again, I haven't formed an impression yet.

13. Barbara Sharpe (R) – sort of languid, but maybe it was just our first meeting that dazed her a little.

14. Emmanuel Oldman (G) – looked vacant during the whole class, remains to be seen whether there's any sense in his head.

Slytherin/Hufflepuff (whom I liked less despite my habitual pro-Hufflepuff bias):

1. Bruno Montgomery (S) – looks like he'll be the best in the bunch, together with

2. Catherine Cockerel (H).

3. Elijah Drake (H) – I don't know what this guy is doing at my class. A vacant stare and a slightly open mouth worth of Messrs Crabbe and Goyle. No, I'll be charitable. Maybe he was just scared, maybe he's a good student.

4. Helena Frawley (H) – yeah, that's another good one. Sort of earnest.

5. Pauline Lanner (H) – nice enough girl.

6. Stacey Dryer (H) – another nice enough girl.

7. Anne O'Leary (S) – that'll be a problem, I'm afraid. English isn't her first language, to begin with. But I'm damned if I'm learning Gaelic just so that I could explain things to her! Yes, I know that Hogwarts is prestigious, but they do have their own school in Dun Laoghaire, which does teach in Gaelic (called Scoil do Dhraoithe. Yes, I've looked it up, do you think I could remember something like that?), so if she was prepared to come over here and study in English, it's her and her parents' own funeral. But she seemed OK to me as a person, actually. Maybe we'll work it out somehow.

8. Victor Adams (H) – almost completely hidden by his long fringe, but when he emerges from underneath it he talks sense.

9. Iraja Changhari (S) – no definite impression yet again.

10. Veronica Jones (H) – same here.

11. Natalie Peck (S) – big eyes, not much behind them, it seems. Hope I'm wrong.

12. Tamsin Cleamy (S) – active.

13. Lucy Liver (S) – wide-open vacant eyes again, I just hope it was all down to their fright of a new teacher.

14. Dora Conrcrake (H) – (why are there so many bird-related names in this group I wonder?) very nice, as for academic prowess – we'll see.

15. Egbert Alpstow (S) – I liked him, he was active and presumably willing to learn.

So Many Students!!!

By the way, I think it needs recording that for the first time in my life, I wasn't feeling scared. At all. Reluctant to meet new people, as usual, but not scared. On the contrary, I felt quite confident, in control. I must be growing professionally! (At bloody last!)

Later: Reread the bit about Elgar. Looks like I'm turning into an old fart, being angry at a kid for trying to be clever and snub my authority. Dear, dear, dear. I don't want to be an old fart, not yet!

**September 6, Friday**

Had the first lesson with this year's OWL group. Again, was glad to find they actually remember something. Good job I have experience with OWL preparation. I think I'll just repeat what I did last year since the result of my efforts turned out to be all right.

**September 7, Saturday**

First weekend of term, yess!! Two months of doing nothing definitely corrupt you. Getting back into working stride again is almost a superhuman feat!

**September 8, Sunday**

Is there a point in actually striving to have an entry a day?.. Nothing happened today. Nothing at all.

**September 9, Monday**

It's funny that it's only as the second week of term starts that the fact that School Has Begun Again actually sinks in. During the first week, you seem to be still harbouring a tiny hope that the whole thing will be somehow called off. But as the second Monday looms you understand that there's no way back... we're back on the routine.

**September 10, Tuesday**

Ten days into the term and the mess on my desk is building up again. In-bloody-credible!

**September 12, Thursday**

Wonder if I'll have to repeat the procedure every year now. Now the new third-years noticed I wasn't using a wand (I was making the runes appear on the blackboard behind my back spectacularly), I caught their curious glances and asked them whether they knew how I could do it; Zoe Worming knew. Then, of course, I had to repeat the same guessing game (well, not that I had to but I thought it would be fun), and it took them four goes to guess it was the ring.

Funny thing really, I just never take it off so I feel almost omnipotent, not like I used to feel while I was still using a wand. You had to reach for it, maybe even look for it first; but the ring is always there, so I can cast spells while I'm having a bath and everything, I'm almost impossible to catch unawares. On the other hand, I don't remember half the Modern spells as it turns out. (I flicked through a seventh-year Charms textbook Flitwick had left lying around in the staff room the other day and felt somewhat mortified.)

But hey, it's pretty cool being a warlock, actually. Just say what you want in Old Norse, and bingo! Well, yes, it did take three years to learn Old Norse, of course... And the shapeshifting, that alone was worth learning it for! I didn't know it came with the craft at the start though, did I? No, I didn't. Came as a pleasant surprise. And to think I fully expected to turn into a wolf, and suddenly there were these huge flapping wings!

And the magic system conflict was easy enough to solve once I got my new wand in Stockholm. I remember when I tried to use my old one and it started sending sparks in all directions and burned me! I was shocked at such misbehaviour. Good job they told me where that wandmaker's shop was in Gamla Stan. I don't think anyone else in Britain has a wand like mine! Fossegrim hair is not easy to come by round here. Nor, for that matter, is the fine Urnes-style craftsmanship! I wonder what Ollivander did with my old wand. Sold it at half price, most probably. Maybe one of the children here at school have it, come to think of it!

**September 13, Friday**

Fuck. Now it really feels like wartime. Hannah Abbot's mother was found dead. Hannah's been removed from the school. Just yesterday, I saw her there, in her usual place, and now she's gone. I don't know if I feel worse about her tragedy or about the fact that we're going on teaching as usual, having our meals, going to the Library, blah blah blah.

And another weird thing happened: Stan Shunpike, the conductor of the Knight Bus, was arrested on suspicion of knowing something about Death Eater activity. The paper says he was overheard sharing their plans with someone in a pub. I don't know him too well, but he seemed quite harmless to me. On the other hand, he did look like a person who had great difficulties keeping his mouth shut, so I wouldn't be at all surprised if he learned something by chance and was blabbing it out to anyone who would listen. And anyway, Azkaban isn't the place it used to be now, is it?

Ugh, I really sounded repulsive there. I wouldn't like to go to prison myself, even if there were no Dementors there. Anyways, I hope Stan Shunpike will be released soon.

**September 15, Sunday**

Nice weather. Went walking and flying about. Nothing much else to record, actually.

**September 16, Monday**

Restarted German, using my Runes classroom like last year. Nearly all of the old bunch turned up, and very eager to learn, too. That's the good thing about voluntary classes: nobody who's bored by the subject has to attend.

**September 17, Tuesday**

Umbridge's locked room system has been reinstated all of a sudden. There's been no prior notification or anything, it was announced today by means of a notice put up on the staff room notice board. Everyone's really annoyed. We can see it's probably the tightened security, but honestly, it looks like some Ministry provocation, probably an order issued by Umbridge herself. (Because it somehow doesn't look like it's coming from Dumbledore.) What it all boils down to is that basically you have to lock up after every lesson, even if you stay in the same room (or else you have to stay inside). And if you have a room that's anything else than your personal classroom, like that moving bloody classroom of mine, you can't have your own key: you have to go down and get it! A small cupboard-like office has been opened off the entrance hall where you have to go and sign the register, and then the key jumps into your hands from the hook. (If you don't sign, it just won't budge, you can pull and pull but it'll just stay there. Yes, I have tried.) Which takes a lot of time, especially if you think that you only have ten minutes for the following routine: lock up, go down, hand in the key, go to staff room and have tea, go get another key, come upstairs again, open the classroom. And some people don't even have a personal classroom for some reason! There's no Department of Muggle Studies, for instance. Such a huge castle, and such difficulties with just bloody getting into a classroom.

**September 19, Thursday**

Oh dear, this is unexpected! I was having a lesson with my third-years, and, ten minutes into the class, I got a huge shock when the door opened and a latecomer came in, and turned out to be none other that Eugenius Skinner, the boy I'd already taught last year! I'd heard he had been expelled, or his parents had removed him from the school due to his complete lack of academic achievement, but presumably the Headmaster decided he deserved another chance. Why he's taken up Runes again I cannot fathom. I mean, OK, OK, as long as he works and does as he's told, I'm not bothered, but I do have a feeling I won't see any improvement this year: the boy arrived to class armed with only a quill and a scrap of paper which does not, in my humble opinion, quite show the, er, required level of dedication. Well, we'll see.

**September 21, Saturday**

This is incredible. No, I'm glad that the school is so well-protected, but really! Good job he didn't kill me right away.

What happened was that today, I went flying again, flew about quite a bit, and then suddenly there was this violent itch in my left leg that I couldn't do anything about in mid-air, so I landed and found myself on a garden wall opposite the side entrance of The Three Broomsticks. I scratched my leg with my beak, and as I did it, I spotted a Ministry leaflet lying on the wall that I hadn't seen, so I started scanning it without changing my form, and suddenly two people came charging out of the pub and before I could do anything at all, one of them had shouted a spell and I was blasted off my feet and off the wall with an indignant croak, right down into someone's blackthorn bush, and transformed back into a human! As I got up, swearing freely I admit, I saw that the figures were two of the four Aurors stationed in the village, namely Tonks and Proudfoot. Tonks was doubled over and laughing her head off, and Proudfoot looked distinctly stunned, still holding his wand trained at me. Turned out he had spotted the unusually literate raven out of the window and thought I was a Death Eater (well, obviously. Who else can a raven be? Philistines...) spying. Tonks had realised it was me but she wasn't quick enough to stop him, and anyway she was overcome with laughter as she imagined what the scene would look like. And of course, since it was a Modern spell, the transformation didn't go exactly right and I did end up looking quite stupid, with black feathers still sticking out of my head in several places (nowhere else, thank goodness!), up to my knees in that stupid bush and covered in dead leaves and scratches from the thorns. I plucked the feathers out and gave them to Tonks to use as quills if she wanted, then left castlewards on foot barely listening to Proudfoot's apologies. As I said, I'm glad he's so vigilant, but really!.. An Auror must know the names and shapes of all registered Animagi by heart, and I'm a law-abiding, registered turnskin!

**September 23, Monday**

Bloody Severus is making my life a misery again. I do wish he'd get over his Harry Potter obsession! Every class he has with the sixth-years gives me a headache.

Although actually... headache? Headache? Do you remember how it used to feel in your first years, especially in the first months? It was unbearable, his regret and guilt tore at my soul so that I could practically feel it bleeding. And that very first minute of it... I thought I'd drop dead then and there, I wanted to double up and scream and just wondered why he wasn't screaming all the time... I got used to it soon enough, though, fought the pain back into some remote corner of my head – actually, come to think of it, this dull ache at the back of my skull is nearly always there, but I've learned to detach myself from it and I don't really notice. That is, unless he flies off the handle and this dull aching spot bursts like a dam and floods my whole being with this blazing, white-hot agony which constricts my breathing and prevents me thinking straight if I don't fight it. God, I'm such an expert in his emotions. I can tell whether it's anger, or hatred, or guilt, or fear.

I just hope, I really bloody hope it does help him. If it's all for nothing...

And I really don't want to know what my own soul looks like after all these years. So it's better not to think about it at all.

**September 24, Tuesday**

Aunt Clarisse's birthday. Decided to ring them on the telephone, because she's so proud of it and so happy when she can use it. I don't remember when I used the telephone last – when I was a primary schoolboy in Scarborough, I think, and rang my classmates from the booth on the road. I Flooed to the Muggle Relations Dept at the Ministry after the classes (remembered the time difference!) and used theirs. Great fun, actually, although it's very strange talking to someone without seeing their face! Auntie was happy I'd rung.

**September 25, Wednesday**

Went for a ramble after school, out of the grounds and up into the mountains. Enjoyed it enormously. It's funny really, because I'm actually not at all the outdoor type, I'm quite happy sitting at my fireplace with a book and a cup of tea. But every now and then, a long hike seems quite irresistible, like today.

Remembered how we used to go tramping in the moors with Mum, Dad and Robert. Sometimes we'd have a picnic on top of a hill or something.

Actually I had an almost perfect childhood. The sea, the moors, the cottage, the lighthouse. The garden. Mum's roses and delphiniums and poppies. The long walks. The swimming. The smell of seaweed and dog-roses at the front door and newly-baked bread and tar soap. Even Father's affliction didn't taint it, really, he was so brave and almost dismissive about it before us. He and Mum never really showed us how it plagued them. We knew full well that our father was a werewolf but it wasn't something dreadful, it just meant that our dear, beloved, ever-cheerful Dad had to spend a night a month locked up in the lighthouse and not in their bedroom. In the morning, he'd come into the kitchen by the back door while we were having breakfast, looking exhausted and grey-faced but always smiling, he would kiss us and he'd kiss Mum and they'd stand there embracing each other for a few seconds, and then he'd sit down and eat his breakfast and everything would be as good as ever it was.

Actually, come to think of it, I'm almost happy the cottage burned down. It would be unbearable to know that other people lived their lives there, changed the wallpaper or the curtains, adapted the house to accommodate them, and not my ghosts. A ruin and a headstone in the churchyard suits me better. The house is kept hidden safely in my memory anyway. It's almost as if they did it deliberately, leaving that candle to burn and burn in the nursery – unnoticed by those who bustled about downstairs removing their bodies and establishing what had happened – to finally set alight the curtain and destroy the cottage within an hour, obliterating every material trace of the happy family that once occupied the house that would otherwise stand as a lying and agonising memorial to them.

Now what has brought this on I wonder. It's almost frightening, you start off with an innocent remark about the weather and suddenly find yourself delving deep inside yourself and grappling with your demons.

The funny thing is that I'll want to cross all of this out tomorrow as I reread it, it'll seem painfully sentimental and embarrassing. But I won't cross it out. I must face my demons every now and then, and it won't do to pretend they don't exist. Let this entry serve as a reminder.

**September 26, Thursday**

That's the fifteenth day in a row I've seen the Headmaster only at breakfast, dinner or not at all. He never told us anything, so I don't think it can be Order business. What does he think he's doing, leaving the school for such extended periods of time? Because I don't think he lurks in his chambers, he is very definitely out somewhere. Incredible, I thought I was a responsible adult, but the thought of Dumbledore being far away and not there to guide us fills me with dread and insecurity, even though I know he puts up extra spells for protection whenever he leaves Hogwarts.

**September 27, Friday**

Now what exactly is going on at this school?! They've started some major refurbishment! I don't believe it – it couldn't have been done during the summer, or by magic, or anything, it has to be done now, during classes, by groups of trolls noisily banging at walls and shouting to one another at the top of their voices, right? I had to go out and ask them to bloody keep it down during a class because I couldn't hear a word the students were saying!

**September 28, Saturday**

Full moon

That's about it really.

**September 30, Monday**

Professor McGonagall's just announced that we teachers are going to have compulsory sessions of combat training until the end of the term (at least). She said, casting me and S a glance, that she knew some of us didn't really need to learn combat spells, but some others did and anyway training is always a good thing. Good idea, I'm all for it. The first session is to be held on October 3, at eight o'clock.

Also, I've decided, from now on, to have my wand with me whenever I venture outside the boundary of the school grounds. The do say the Dementors that left Azkaban are breeding all over the place. I've been thinking and it looks like the best way to do it would be to strap it to my left arm with the wristband. That means I won't be able to wear a watch, which will be uncomfortable, but that's definitely better than facing a Dementor unarmed, or fumbling in my bag, or risking to break it if I stick the wand in the back pocket and then sit on it. And I need to have it on me, because I've never faced a Dementor before and I don't know the effect the encounter will have on me, I'm afraid that it might sap me of concentration required to summon the wand from the school, which will leave me completely defenceless. It's definitely safer to have it handy. If I could just formulate a dwimmercraft incantation that would summon a Patronus, but so far all of my efforts have been futile. Probably Modern Magic is the only way, actually. They don't call it Modern for nothing, right? Surely there must have been a certain degree of progress involved in the transition.


	11. October Again

**October 1, Tuesday**

It's now official that I'm supervising SpAWN studets again, five of them this time, AND acting as reviewer for another SEVEN! Apparently nobody else could make it this year! The good thing is that this year, they are due to present their projects in June (the preliminary version is to be presented in May, that is), which makes things much less tense and horrible. And they are the kids (well, I say kids...) I've already worked with, I gave them lectures and tutorials in their first year at the Society and ran into them regularly afterwards as well whenever I put in an appearance at the Academy, and I remember they were very good, and they liked me in their turn. The people I'm taking on are Oliver Pullston, Veronica Collier, Leonard Squires, Tara Fuller and Iris Ossett (Ann Whiskers and Layla Sellis are among the people I'm reviewing). They haven't changed much since the time I saw them last: Oliver and Veronica are still very relaxed and laid-back, so I sense problems there. Maybe it will be alright though – they've grown a bit, surely?.. Tara and Leonard are still very studious, Tara still a bit paranoid ('And what will happen if...? Will they be very strict at the defence?'), and Iris is still very cheerful and active and capable of doing loads of work. I'm actually feeling quite happy about teaching them again.

**October 2, Wednesday**

Nearly ruined my high boots today. The trolls have partly ripped off the flags in the corridor leading to the staff room, and even though they have rigged up something like a wooden gangway for us to walk on, the stone and plaster dust is everywhere, and obviously plaster dust and suede do not mix. Will stick to wearing my Muggle builder's boots until they're finished.

**October 3, Thursday**

First training session. Good fun, actually. Prof. McG is a very able fighter, and quite ruthless, I'm glad she's not the sort of person to get carried away because she could easily kill someone if she wanted. Aurora, Prof. Slughorn and Charity, on the other hand, are almost useless. I sparred each of them in turn, and it did take them a lot of effort to withstand even my mild gentlemanly attacks. At the end of the hour-long session, yours truly and Sev. were called forward to demonstrate our skills as we had done last year, and just at that moment, Dumbledore came in, took a seat at the back of the room and watched us fight. I suppose it was quite an exciting show really – hair flying, curses colliding in mid-air, sparks in all directions, hoarse shouts and stamping feet. I made S jump about a bit, too. It was, I think, about ten minutes before Prof. McG called a break, and as we shook hands and stood there, panting, sweat running in rivulets down our backs (well, down mine at least), Dumbledore came over and said, 'Well done, boys. Well done.' Sev. looked at him with a most peculiar expression on his face, something like resentment and even accusation. Wonder what's happened between them again.

**October 4, Friday**

Prof. McGonagall's birthday. We celebrated after classes with a cake she'd brought. I was very curious as to how old she had actually become, but it's not a thing you ask a witch, obviously.

**October 5, Saturday**

Spent an hour doing the pre-winter sorting out of my wardrobe. As I put the clothes out on the bed, I realised what a weird assortment I've got, Muggle and wizarding apparel all mixed up. Two pairs of jeans, corduroys and leather trousers. T-shirts and a suede jerkin. And linen singlets, and a linen shirt. Set of robes just in case. Warm Aran jumper, medium jumper, light jumper, poloneck. Belt, wristbands. Fur cloak, Doctor's velvet mantle, green autumn cloak, sheepskin coat, windbreaker. Yellow builder's boots, suede high boots, Dr Marten's, loafers. Pointy wizard's hat, woollen hat. Four, no five... no SIX scarves! I'm a scarf fanatic apparently.

The T-shirts and the leather stuff has gone some nondescript off-white colour from all the times I've changed it. Come to think if it, I don't remember what colour the T-shirts were originally... something trendy way back then, presumably, maybe yellow? I don't remember. I'm thrifty as a hundred-year-old granny. Enchanting all the clothes to make them ever-durable, changing the colour according to fashion or whim, and I haven't spent more than five Galleons a year on new clothes these last ten years!

**October 7, Monday**

Heaven be praised, they've put the flagstones down again. Yes, it does look neater. However, I still do not see any point in doing it all now.

**October 8, Tuesday**

Went for a walk in the grounds and ran into Prof. Sprout making a bonfire to burn all the dead leaves and stuff. Volunteered to help her, and spent a very pleasurable hour feeding twigs to the fire in the gathering dusk. My jumper smells of smoke now. Nice.

**October 9, Wednesday**

The new OWL students seem to be quite as studious and dedicated as last year's, they keep asking me questions like, "Will this come up at the exam? Will you teach us everything they'll ask us?" Of course I'll teach you everything, you silly children! I'm experienced now, I know exactly what they'll ask you.

**October 10, Thursday**

My beginners seem to be entering normal working mode. They aren't afraid of me any longer and I seem to have learned most of their names and even started putting them more or less effectively to faces. Obviously the ones I learned fast and easily are either the ones who cause no trouble at all (like Zoe Worming or Keira Thewlis or Alice Yarman or Bruno Montgomery or Victor Adams), or lots of trouble (Miles Elgar, Lucy Liver, Dora Corncrake, Anne O'Leary). I still let them decide on the course of the class so far, but that was just a way to make them feel secure, I'll change it next term. No more "Who'd like to...?" but "And now let's listen to..." It's amazing though: some of them are always ready, and always with something worthwhile. Bruno Montgomery's incredibly reliable in this respect, and it is a bit more surprising than, say, Zoe Worming's dedication, because he's rather quiet generally and doesn't really shine unless you ask him a direct question. I like him a lot. All the more surprising to hear Prof. Trelawney talk about him: she says she's never met a more insolent child. At first I thought we were talking about different boys. But then she does seem to have even less of a grip on a class than I do. Come to think of it, they don't misbehave at my classes really, do they? And they listen to me and do what I say. Maybe I'm not that bad at teaching after all.

Oh! Must not forget to ask them to write a list of what they'll have learned by the end of the year. Will probably forget, though.

**October 11, Friday**

Just got sopping wet as I came home from the village. Me and Aurora popped out for a forage in the library and on our way back were drenched to our skins by a sudden shower! We did magic up umbrellas for ourselves, but all they could do was to keep our heads relatively dry, because there was also wind that threw the water around so that by the time we got back into the dry safety of the castle, the hem of Aurora's dress and my jeans from the knees down were dripping, and the rest of us was damp at the very least! Hope I haven't caught a cold.

**October 12, Saturday**

Don't think I've caught a cold, but will stay inside today and tomorrow just in case. Plenty to do, anyway. The desk needs clearing again, and I probably should finally arrange stuff on my shelf in the staff room as well.

Stuff in the staff room. I'm thinking in tongue-twisters now.

**October 13, Sunday**

There's a staff meeting tomorrow at lunchtime. Mustn't forget.

**October 14, Monday**

Oh dear. I'm starting to regret continuing with German. Somehow there seem to be more classes this year than there were last year... oh well, of course there are more of them! Year five moved into year six, and there are new third-years. There are more classes compared to what I had last year. So I hardly seem to have any energy for the extra class. (Especially today, on top of a staff meeting and before a duelling session.) Oh well. I have made my bed and all that – as that lovely Russian proverb goes that they taught me in Kitezh all those years ago, if you call yourself a mushroom, you must get into the basket. Will pull myself together.

**October 15, Tuesday**

Trying to pull myself together.

**October 16, Wednesday**

Unsuccessfully.

**October 19, Saturday**

What a horrible thing to happen! Katie Bell, a Gryffindor seventh-year and Quidditch player, has been taken to St Mungos' after being dreadfully cursed. She was carrying a cursed necklace on her way back from Hogsmeade for some reason, and touched it with her bare hand. Sev. was summoned to take care of her, she was in a terrible state, he says, it was a really bad, ancient curse, and she might be away a very long time. Everybody's shaken, because however well-protected we all may be within the castle here, with all those Probity Sensors Mr Filch keeps trying to stick up everyone's bottom, Hogsmeade is much less heavily protected, the Aurors there can't keep an eye on everything, and anyone there is much more vulnerable.

Just ran into Neville on the stairs, he's very pale and shocked, and I can see he really misses his parents. Well, having parents. A family. I told him to come over for a cup of tea whenever he likes; after all, I am family, albeit distant. But I don't think he'll come. I think it's just a temporary thing. He's grown much more independent and confident in the last year. I think, actually, that being friends with Harry Potter is beneficial for him. Harry Potter is famous, and famously brave, so any of his friends are likely to be regarded as brave, too, and there's just one step from being regarded as brave to turning really, outspokenly brave and confident, and look at what Neville did in June, fighting Death Eaters in the Ministry with the rest of that gang. He has always been very brave, of course, but in a very shy and quiet way; now it shows. I'm glad.

**October 21, Monday**

Anne O'Leary's mother's been to see me. Well, not me alone, also Prof. Burbage and Hagrid, i.e. those whose classes she started attending this year, Mrs O'Leary had already talked to the other teachers last year, as it transpired, when Anne was transferred here from Dun Laoghaire. I was rather worried when she first got in touch – the girl's actually not the, as someone said, sharpest quill on the porcupine (although she is hard-working and generally rather nice), and there's the language barrier, too, she actually is still struggling with English. I thought the mother was going to plead with us to make allowances and everything , but it turned out she was wondering if the girl was putting enough effort in! She asked what we could recommend for them (the parents) to do, and it looks like all three of us said they'd better take on an English tutor, nobody was displeased with Anne's performance with the actual subjects.

I must say I was amazed when I saw Mrs O'Leary. I first thought she was Anne's elder sister. Incredibly young-looking, quite attractive. An exceptional woman.

Well, from among the few women I know, obviously.

**October 22, Tuesday**

Been to the village library after classes, found a 1930s Muggle detective story. Will be interesting to read it.

**October 25, Friday**

Holed up here marking the mid-term tests. Wish it were summer and I could take all my parchments outside and mark them lounging on the lawn in the sunlight.

**October 26, Saturday**

Full moon

Good job it's Sunday tomorrow. It's two o'clock at night at the moment and I'm sitting in the window-seat, reading. I still can't get enough of that window-seat. I'd missed one ever since I left Hogwarts. It's so nice to sit here with a book, candle-lit fireplace-warmed room on one side, dark moonlit landscape on the other.

**October 27, Sunday**

Suddenly realised what a weird impression I must be making on my students. I write things up on the blackboard, actually write them up, not magic them up (first lesson excepted). That must look almost as if I were a Squib or something. On the other hand, they know me well enough by now to know I'm far from being a Squib. Oh well. Just one more thing to add to my unorthodox wardrobe and general non-conformist image, I suppose.

Why I do it is of course because with runes, you have to actually write them. It feels disrespectful to produce a runic text in any other way. At the first lesson, I just introduce runes to the kids, one by one, so magicking them up is all right, but serious work is to be done with written texts.

**October 30, Wednesday**

Hmmm. The redecoration seems to have finished. The trolls and their appliances are gone, although I can't actually see any noticeable changes in the way the castle looks. Slightly fresher in places perhaps, but after a month of noise, dirt and swearing in Troll I thought we'd get something more impressive.

**October 31, Thursday**

Hallowe'en

Right. That's certainly a first. I walked out on my third-year H/S group today, because out of sixteen of them, only three – THREE – had done any home assignment! I took loads of points off, of course, said I saw no point in carrying on in this case, told the three that were ready they were excused from our next week's class, and went. Hope it shakes them into sense.

**November 2, Saturday**

Been to the Quidditch match. Gryffindor won (of course). Harry Potter is now their captain, so they're really good. Sev. looks annoyed (it was Slytherin they were playing against), especially since it wasn't their usual team – Malfoy couldn't play for some reason, and he's a decent Seeker, really, and used to playing against Potter, but the boy who was in his place today obviously wasn't. I asked Sev. why Malfoy was absent, to which he muttered something vague which gave me an impression he didn't know the reason himself. But that's so much unlike him that presumably there's a different explanation. Maybe Lucius Malfoy was allowed a visit in Azkaban and that's where Draco went? Malfoy may not be as big at the Ministry as he used to be, but gold is still gold. Come to think of it, you most probably couldn't bribe Dementors, but you bloody well can bribe a human warder. Well, obviously I hope you can't bribe Aurors, but still.

No wonder the country's going to the dogs if half her most skilful Dark wizard catchers are busy guarding a prison instead of doing what they were trained to do.

**November 5, Tuesday**

Bonfire Night. Like last year, I'm going to take out my Scrying Screen and watch the fireworks and bonfires – it's too cold to travel anywhere. Good thing, this little mirror of mine. Just tell it what to show and it shows you. One of my prize possessions, along with the music box and the staff – and found in a junk shop! I remember I read about them at school and tried to make one myself, but failed. In spite of all my efforts, my enchantment lasted no more than a few minutes, then it was an ordinary mirror again. It was too advanced for me then – I think now I might succeed if I tried to make one and really put my mind to it.

The music box is another useful thing, because carting around a gramophone would have been rather cumbersome, and this birthday present from Sev. was very timely, right before my posting to Durmstrang. Just extract the memory of the song and pour it in the box and it plays loudly and clearly.

And the staff. Quite a good thing, too, even though I say it myself, who carved it out of an ordinary stick of ash wood.

Oh, just remembered vividly a most unpleasant scene I witnessed over the mirror, one of those times I tried to spy on Sev. and his teaching to try and understand why it breeds so much bitterness in him. And come to think of it – it must have been Hermione Granger, that girl whose teeth grew like the fangs of a sabre-toothed tiger, and he said he could see nothing out of the ordinary! The bastard. What a bastard. Sometimes he's so childish in his behaviour it's almost unbelievable.


	12. November Again

**November 6, Wednesday**

Just uprooted a photo in a drawer that I'd completely forgotten about. Charity took it, and it's Prof. McG, Hagrid, Aurora, Prof. Flitwick, Prof. Sprout and me having tea on the lawn under the big tree. I remember, it was August 25 or something, when we were nearly all back but still not thinking about classes and students, trying to prolong the summer by pretending it wasn't drawing to a close. The weather was great and someone suggested we take our tea outside after lunch. It was great. We just talked and laughed, completely oblivious of the world for a while. Ha! Sev.'s just wandered into shot with a teacup, gave a startled look to the camera and hastily withdrawn. Must not mention it to him, otherwise he'll just get mad and insist I clip him off, which I don't want to do since I've only got two pictures of him and both very old, one from way back when he took me to meet his mother during an exeat weekend in our seventh year, taken in their back so-called garden, him and his Mum against a background of wilting geraniums in a window-box; and the other is the one he sent me when I was in Sweden, of himself at some potion-makers' do or other, so he's about twenty on it. So I'm not giving this one away. (Come to think of it, he's only got one picture of me, the one I sent him from Uppsala, with the cathedral in the background.)

Such a sunny day in the photo, I wish I could climb into it.

**November 7, Thursday**

Oh great. My beginners, the ones I walked out on last week, have failed to turn up. There were three people there, and the least gifted of the lot, too... Yes, I remember I allowed three of the kids to skip this class, but what about the remaining ten?.. I've given the lesson all right, but I'm feeling deeply stung. Just what do they think they are up to?

**November 8, Friday**

Weekend! Weekend! I'll have to go down to the village tomorrow or the day after – need tea, quills and such.

**November 9, Saturday**

Just heard astounding news from the Society! The Voynich Manuscript has been decoded! It's all over the Academy. A Hungarian scholar by the name of Attila Rohoncz cracked the code and read the book, which actually turned out to be an old Czech wizard's notes on experimental magical botany and astrology. The wizard's name has not been revealed though, but Mr Rohoncz is continuing his research and may soon unravel this mystery too.

Cool!

Now I suppose we're to await the deciphering of Codex Seraphinianus. Although I do suspect all it needs is a prod with a wand and a few well-chosen words, really, rather than trying to establish the correspondence between the signs and the letters of a language. Which words, that is the question. I know there are people who support this theory among the students of the Codex too. I also heard Muggles are trying their hand at deciphering it too, but I doubt that they'll be successful. Luigi Serafini is, after all, a well-known if eccentric wizard.

**November 11, Monday**

German's been quite nice today – I let them talk about what they wanted, and generally we had a nice discussion about everything and nothing. I correct them all the time, of course, but they've become quite good at easy, fluent talking. That's very gratifying.

**November 12, Tuesday **

Bloody hell. Just overheard a conversation between Prof. McGonagall and Dumbledore. I bumped into them in a corridor, I was just turning a corner when I heard her saying loudly: 'Why are you so sure you can still trust him?', and him answering mildly: 'I've already told you, Minerva. I have a very good reason to trust Severus Snape.' I went hot and cold, and I was really angry at McGonagall, so I went past them without warning them of my approach by a cough or something as I would have normally done, and she had the good grace to look embarrassed as I said 'Good evening'.

Later, of course, I kept thinking and thinking about it, and my anger subsided, turning into a sadness. Who does trust him, after all? Nobody. Even Dumbledore, as it turns out, trusts him for a reason. Lupin once said he trusts him because Dumbledore does. I suppose I'm the only one who simply bloody trusts him.

**November 13, Wednesday**

We had a mid-term staff meeting today. I keep recalling those endless meetings we used to have with Umbridge – we're very fortunate she's no longer here.

**November 15, Friday**

It's been raining all day. I spent about half an hour sitting in my window-seat and just watching the rain. If I were a poet I'd write a poem.

**November 16, Saturday**

Suddenly realised there's less than a month left before Christmas! Time to start Christmas-shopping, then. I enjoyed giving out little presents to my colleagues last year, so I think I'll repeat it. Probably get something else, not baubles, some other ornaments maybe, and enchant them again so that they light up or sing or smell or whatever. Also, I'll need something special for S, Aurora and Dumbledore. Oh, and for Flitwick, of course!

Later: Just back from Hogsmeade. Everyone seems to have realised Christmas is approaching, it's very crowded in shops. I bought a pack of ornamental snowflakes for my colleagues. As for special things, I couldn't find anything really nice, so I'll probably Floo to London tomorrow.

**November 17, Sunday**

No, I don't want to go shopping in the rain. Maybe it wont be too late to do it next week.

**November 18, Monday**

Nice duelling session today. I sparred Aurora almost exclusively (at her request, as a Great Duelling Master: she's too scared of Sev. to ask him to spar her), and she seems to have made a kind of breakthrough, she's getting rather tough. Good.

**November 19, Tuesday**

Time to set the second mid-term tests. I'm bored and tired, and the only good thing about it being second mid-term-test time is that it means there's only a month left until the final term tests and then it'll be Christmas and freedom and rest for a while. Somehow it's very bleak all round. The weather's not helping either, it's been raining for a week, the ground is squelchy, the air chills to the bone even if one flies. Will fight depression. I know: will make myself some cinnamon-and-cloves tea and put a nice record on.

**November 20, Wednesday**

Aunt Elaine's birthday. Yet another unimaginative gift of chocolates and flowers is even now making its way to her place, tied to an owl's leg.

**November 22, Friday**

Gave my first lecture this year at the Society. Felt a bit weird to be standing there before the newly enrolled SpAWNs again, after a year's break, but the old comfortable feeling was soon back. What does feel stupid is the fact that I keep saying the same things every year (save last). Somehow it feels that, since I've repeated them so many times already, they must have somehow become public knowledge and do not really need to be repeated. I know it's an illusion, but the feeling is still very strong. Actually, it feels that the repetition makes what I'm saying untrue. Silly feeling.

**November 23, Saturday**

Full moon

I almost fell asleep just now, reading and checking essays in the window-seat. I've opened the window, am breathing the cold air, trying to wake up. You know what? Screw those essays. There's always tomorrow. I'll go for a fly in the moonlight.

**November 24, Sunday**

Evening: Just had a most unnerving experience. I spent about an hour and a half checking the translations the third-years had given in, marking off all the mistakes, adding them up and counting the percentage blah blah blah. Finally, I was through, with a sigh of contentment and a pleasing feeling of a job well done, I took my bag to put them there – and found a sheaf of about ten more translations the sixth-years had handed in, which I had promised to check by tomorrow and completely forgotten about! Early senility, no doubt. Am sitting down again to check them.

**November 25, Monday**

Hold on, man. You've only got four Mondays to get through before the end of term.

Bloody battle practice today, too. Maybe I'll skive off. Or just sit there quietly. I'm knackered.

**November 27, Wednesday**

Been getting ready for my NEWT class and realised that, however hard I may try to cram things into their heads by the end of next year, they'll never learn as much as I know now, nor do they actually have to to pass their exam well. I actually learned half of what I know and gained half my skills after school, and I'm not really talking about dwimmercraft, just Runes themselves, runic writing, runic translation. Must be the same with all of the subjects here, really. Apparently what's given to the students here is just a sound basis, enough to get by in life, but whatever sphere you take – Runes, Potions, anything, – these qualifications aren't enough to be an expert. You either have to put in lots more personal effort (cf. Sev.) or else get some further education (cf. self and my SpAWNs). Prospective Aurors have to undergo three more years of training before they hone their skills to a level compatible with being able to do their job (Kingsley told me). So do the Healers, if my memory serves me. It's only the Ministry that takes graduates and lets them work right away. Presumably the paper-shuffling jobs they get at the start aren't that skilled, and then they learn in the process. Or not, as the case may be.

How come I never wanted to be an Auror? I suppose I've always been too weedy for that – never even played Quidditch. Actually, I'd love to be an Auror. Too late now to dream of it; and in any case, we're soon all be as good as Aurors, fighting back the Dark side.

**November 28, Thursday**

Blimey. They've stood me up again! The Hufflepuff-Slytherin group of third-years failed to turn up for the second time in a month, I DON'T BELIEVE IT! The other group caught me before the third lesson, said the teacher who was to take their third period was unwell and so could they join the H/Ss as there were only THREE of those present! I had a good enough lesson in the end, actually, discussing their tests and things, but Bloody Hell!.. I'm sort of left speechless, really. For the second time! And they had been present at the previous lesson, I know it for certain because they have Charms right before me and Flitwick had told me they were all there before I went to class, no one was off sick or removed from the school or anything. I asked S what to do, although I doubt he's ever encountered anything like this – maybe in his very first years when he was really young and hardly cut an authoritative enough figure. He told me to give them all zeroes, and of course I will, for this class, but the trouble is they've already written the test and I've already marked it and worse, being oh so disciplined and so well-trained by Umbridge, already filled in the assessment table – and some of them got pretty good marks, actually. I will take points off, of course. If that goes on, I might be single-handedly responsible for those two Houses being in negative figures by the end of the term. I just wonder what in the name of all that is sacred they think they are doing?..

**November 30, Saturday**

Heaven be praised, I've finally found a birthday present for Severus in London! I bought him a silver serpent-shaped paper knife, because he lost his about two years ago as it has recently transpired, so he keeps cutting up envelopes and books with his silver potion-making knife, which can't be too good for the letters, and especially books. Hope he likes it.


	13. December Again

**December 1, Sunday**

Start of December. Only three weeks to go before the end of the term, and just a little more till Christmas. Yess! It's snowing now, making the grounds look very wintry and inviting. Think will go for a little fly again.

Heaven be praised I'm a raven. Right cool to be a raven, actually, both practical and imposing. Imagine if I were a frog. Or a fish.

**December 2, Monday**

Prof. McGonagall floored me in practice today with a very dangerous spell. She sent a cloud of daggers at me. I had to throw myself on the floor to avoid them, and they sunk thudding into the wooden floor all around me, one scratched my arm as it passed. What I loved though was Sev.'s reaction. He jumped up and said:

'Professor McGonagall, there's hardly any call!..'

'I'm sure it would not have killed Professor Heald, Severus,' she answered with this supremely magnificent air of indifference she can do so well.

'Because he's a warlock?' S said and I heard his voice was almost shaking with barely contained rage. 'Old Magic doesn't make his skin impenetrable, do you know!'

'Because I wasn't aiming at him,' she answered.

S looked like he wanted to argue, but I came over and stopped him. He was genuinely worried. Sort of nice of him.

**December 3, Tuesday**

It's getting bleaker and bleaker out there. Just learned – from Prof. Flitwick, not the Prophet – that there have been two more disappearances in London. Florean Fortescue and Mr Ollivander. Can't fathom what the Other Side would want them for.

**December 4, Wednesday**

Brilliant. I've got angina. Woke up with a dreadfully sore throat and realised I couldn't even speak. As I crawled out of bed thinking to quash it as usual with a dose of my Alpine drops, I nearly fell over and realised I had a fever. Causing myself horrible pain, I called for a house-elf and asked him to get the message to the Headmaster that I was obviously too ill to teach, then crawled back into bed. In half an hour, there was a knock on my door and Madam Pomfrey and Severus came in. She busied herself about me taking my temperature and looking in my throat and putting up a whole battalion of bottles and phials on my bedside table, while Snape looked at me, sat down in my chair and said:

'This is common, vulgar angina. How did you manage – warlock?'

I couldn't answer, but Madam P said:

'Well, there are draughts here, and it is cold. Now Professor Heald, dear, make sure you take all of these regularly, and please be reasonable and stay in bed and sleep and drink lots of warm tea with lemon, and forget about your students. You're in no fit condition to teach and won't be for another few days.'

I nodded, although I was feeling worried and was already planning to venture out the day after tomorrow because I hate missing classes and screwing things up by my absence.

'Don't worry, Madam Pomfrey,' S said, probably sensing this. 'I'll make sure personally that this berk does exactly as he is told.'

He's been as good as his word: it's seven o'clock now and he's been over five times, harassing me into taking the medicines, helping me sit up and eat some broth and discoursing on the general idiocy of those who let stupid little illnesses like angina get the better of them. I love this man. I honestly love him.

And it's Robert's birthday, too.

**December 5, Thursday**

Spent most of the day asleep, getting books to read themselves aloud to me when I was awake. S's been around a few times again, and Madam P dropped by as well to see how I was getting along.

**December 6, Friday**

More of the same thing. Still can't talk.

Hagrid sent over some of his birthday cake to me. I was deeply moved.

**December 7, Saturday**

Much better, although madam P still insists I stay in bed.

**December 8, Sunday**

Oh joy! Madam P's just been around and pronounced me well enough to teach tomorrow. She says I've still got to take it easy because angina can have disastrous consequences for your heart if you take it too lightly, so she says 'rest more and don't go outside for a while'. But at least there'll be no more lessons lost.

Later: Damnation. I've got fever again.

I was too hasty. S brought Madam P around again and she said she'd apparently been wrong earlier. They've ordered me to leave teaching alone for two more days at least.

**December 10, Tuesday**

Looks like I'm finally all right. My throat is OK, no fever, although I am feeling rather weak.

Yess! Madam Pomfrey's just left, assuring me that this time she's certain I'm back to normal, which means I can teach tomorrow. Funny, I've been so worried about missing classes, and now I understand I don't want to go and teach at all, I've got so used to lying idly about and bearing no responsibility!

**December 11, Wednesday**

Out of my room and teaching. Looks like nobody has missed me much, especially not the students!

**December 12, Thursday**

Looks like the angina will take longer to get over than I thought. I'm quite OK now, not exactly full of energy but out and about and working. But my throat gets tired every quickly. At my third lesson today, I realised I just couldn't go on talking loudly and had to resort to a Snape-like near-whisper. The interesting thing is that they actually were very quiet and listened to me attentively. Maybe they thought they had got me angry somehow. Gotta try it again some time, looks like a good way to keep some discipline. The funny thing is that they were the 'good' group, the ones I'm in great relations with, and they don't actually need to be kept quiet and scared!

Suddenly remembered as I trudged down the corridor that my wandering classroom was in today how Umbridge once changed the timetable 'to make things more streamlined', last day of term it was or something, and she made us work on Monday's schedule on a Friday, and told that to us but not to Mr Filch, so he ran about very excited saying that all the teachers were missing their classes and not opening their classrooms on time, until the whole thing was cleared. Wonderful memories. Wonder if he misses her.

All this effort, though. Chasing a room all over the castle to sit inside it and talk about Runes.

**December 14, Saturday**

Whew. Back from London – finally found Christmas presents for S and others! I bought him – uncharacteristically perhaps – a bottle of mead, I actually remembered quite suddenly when I saw the bottle in the shop that we'd drunk this particular brand together once and found it very good. I also bought two sets of bookmarks, one golden one silvery, and a gold keychain for Aurora in the shape of a lunar globe, hope she likes it. Nice shop, that one, found it quite accidentally. I was suddenly seized by a desire to see the place where the bookshop that Mother used to work in before she married Dad was, and this fascinating bric-a-brac shop was in its place. It's very tempting to think that it actually was Mum, who saw her son down here in the state dangerously close to despair re the absence of presents for his friends and sent him a good idea. I wish I knew for certain.

**December 15, Sunday**

I've been thinking and I've arrived at a highly uncomfortable conclusion today. I'm completely useless. People are dying out there, all over the place, or getting kidnapped, and I'm stuck here safely inside the warm and cosy school, with the tasty dinners and the fluffy bed, teaching children something they will never be able to use in real life. I don't even teach them how to fight with dwimmercraft. They seem to enjoy it but they are children and they don't understand about life. I think they'd be much better off if those lessons were taken up by Defence, or extra Charms, or even Potions, just about anything but Runes. (Arithmancy. That's the second most useless subject here.) People are dying, and I go about helping Molly Weasley with the shopping, like I did in the summer. Me, a warlock. Those words that Black said last year keep ringing and ringing in my ears, although I thought I hadn't been hurt then: 'Make him help in the kitchen, that's about the most useful thing he can do for the Order.' He seems to've been right. This is so depressing I'm thinking of resigning.

**December 16, Monday**

Had a talk with the Headmaster today. I approached him after lunch, and he took me to his office and I told him all I wanted to say, about taking my classes and giving them over to Defence. I said I was feeling useless. He listened to me gravely, without interrupting, looking at me above his glasses attentively. Then he said:

'I think I know how you are feeling, Roderick. I'm far from suspecting that you merely want to lift the burden of teaching from your shoulders. I can see you mean what you say. However, my answer is and will remain, No.' I wanted to say something but he stopped me with a gesture. 'Listen to me, Roderick. Do you think the war will go on forever?'

'No,' I said. 'I hope not.'

'And do you think we shall win?'

'Well, I certainly hope so.'

'Which means that the school will have to return to its pre-war state, wouldn't you say?'

'Yes, of course. But when the war's over, you can reinstate Runes. I'll be glad to come back and teach again if I don't get killed in the meantime. And if you consent to take me on again, of course. And if I do get killed, you can find someone else.'

'This is where you are sadly mistaken, Roderick.' He shook his head sadly. 'Runes will not be reinstated. We have been through this before at this school. You have, I trust, noticed Latin is taught no more at Hogwarts?'

'Yes, I was wondering.'

'I'll tell you what happened. It was during the previous war, shortly after your year's graduation. The teacher of Latin – you remember him, Professor Smith – came to me, like you have, and told me very much what you have just said, that war was no time for inventing new spells and learning theory, that it would be much wiser for the children to have more time to learn to use the already existing spells which might save their lives out there. So we took Latin off the curriculum, and we reallocated the time to Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms and Transfiguration. I promised that Professor Smith would be able to come back once the war was over and teach again. But he never did. By the time the war was over, he had died, and since there had been no Latin for several years, no young teacher could take his place. The Society of Ancient Tongues could not provide a teacher from among all the brilliant researchers they have. So we do not have any more Latin, and that, frankly speaking, is a disaster.'

'Erm,' I said.

'Don't you see, Roderick?' he said, slightly impatiently. 'One of the functions of the school is to maintain the scholarly tradition. Stop teaching, and we lose the tradition. I would not want that to happen. You are charged with keeping up the stock of wizarding knowledge and passing it on to the children. This is your duty to the school, which you promised to be faithful to when you signed your contract.'

I sat silent for a while, thinking this over.

'As for being wasted here as a man and a fighter, Roderick, my answer is, again, Stay where you are.' He looked at me kindly. 'You alone cannot stand guard at every door. Whereas you are an invaluable asset to my school, a highly skilled dueller that you are, armed with Old Magic and impervious to most offensive spells. It is, again, your duty to the school. We are all good fighters here, and when – and it is a question of when, I'm afraid – when we are attacked, I want you to be there, protecting and defending the students with your remarkable skills.'

'Oh,' I said. I had nothing more to say, actually.

'However,' he said, standing up, and I understood the interview was drawing to a close, 'if you are feeling underused, I can give you a task. As you know, the school grounds and the castle itself are protected with spells, some of which are Old Magic. You can go over them, see if they still hold, reinforce them if need be. I shall provide you with a map. Can you do this?'

'Yes, of course, sir. Of course.'

'Very good. Forgive me, I must go now,' he said and reached out his blackened hand for his travelling cloak.

I withdrew hastily, thinking over what I had heard. I've spent some time turning this over in my mind, and I think he has convinced me. I'm now trying to feel like a warrior inside a fortress, a skilful warrior who's just biding his time and protecting the innocent in his charge.

Oh, a house-elf has just delivered the map the Headmaster's mentioned. Seems to be quite a lot of work, actually.

**December 17, Tuesday**

End of term drawing near. Am setting tests. The fourth-years' term today. As usual, the plan to do something useful during these lessons has failed. Well, almost. I've decided what to give to the third-, fifth- and sixth-years, but now I'm just reading, and trying to determine how best to go about the checking of the protective spells.

**December 18, Wednesday **

Am acting as invigilator at a test set by Prof. Flitwick, he's asked me to help, and I've agreed because I'm free during this period. He's swamped in work, he's preparing an article for Challenges in Charming (there's a war on, and he's preparing an article! I think I know what the Head was on about the day before yesterday), and he has about fifty essays to check, so I've agreed to help him out and sit here watching the kids while he's working in his office. They are Ravenclaw third-years, and the amazing thing is that I know nearly all of them, they're nearly all taking Runes! Commendable, isn't it? They are very, very quiet, scribbling away, whispering to themselves, gazing into the ceiling intently. A pleasure to watch. I'm going to set them a test tomorrow, too, and I wonder if I'll see them as quiet and concentrated then, or is it the invisible presence of Prof. Flitwick that keeps them within bounds. Or maybe it's because they have to actually remember things for this test, whereas mine are all translations, that they seem to be much more talkative at my tests.

**December 19, Thursday **

Now it's my test for those third-years. I'm trying to be more severe, but again, I see a very familiar sight – stupid little children trying to copy from each other although it is a recognised scientific fact that they only copy mistakes from each other in nine cases out of ten. At the same time, I'm trying to sort out all the accumulated translations and essays I've been setting, but I find I just can't cope. It's too boring, I'll just scribble in the diary instead. The end of the term is taking its toll on me. I wish it were Christmas already and we were all free.

It's pretty warm in here, I've taken off my jumper (good job I'm wearing a presentable linen singlet underneath). All the kids have taken off their hats, although Alice Yarman is still wearing her thick scarf. Only Miles Elgar is wearing his hat, set back at a stupid angle, trying to single himself out as usual, presumably.

Later: I'm evil. I've failed thirteen people out of thirty! No, but THIRTEEN out of thirty! Almost a half! It's never happened to me before. Now they'll have to write it again for me.

**December 20, Friday**

End of term! The castle's being decorated for Christmas. Spent some time helping put up the decorations in the staff room, like last year, because I was the tallest of those present and so was deemed the most suitable person to balance on the window-sills, reach up to the top of the high diamond-paned windows and stick strands of tinsel there. We also magicked up some baubles to hang from the chandelier. Looks nice and Christmassy now.

Also, we're all invited to a party tonight! Prof. Slughorn is organising it, and by the sound of it, he's organising something HUGE. He announced his plans during the break in the staff room, and he wouldn't take no for an answer from anyone. Poor S was agony to look at: he obviously couldn't refuse an invitation from his old teacher who's always set such store by him, but the thought of Snape at a party...

Later: The party was quite nice, actually, although there was a huge throng of people, all Slughorn's various acquaintances of varying degrees of fame and glory. He magnified his room to maybe thirty times its normal size so that it turned into a huge hall. Aurora, Flitwick, McGonagall, Charity and myself occupied a corner to ourselves, with S hovering nearby, and played the guitar and sang. Then S rose to refill his glass, and never came back. Maybe he'd had enough.

**December 21, Saturday**

Start of winter holidays! Yay! Long-awaited and well-deserved, I'd say.

We decided to play a detective-story-inspired literary game during the holidays with Aurora, Madam Hooch, Flitwick and a few others; we're going to leave messages in a notebook kept in the staff room, describing a story each from his or her own point of view (the plot is, we're all snowed in at the school and one of us is the criminal who has stolen all the warm socks and all the others will have to figure our who it is). To make things even more complicated, each of us will have a secret code word which we'll have to use in our messages every day, and the others have, again, to figure out what it is, getting a Chocolate Frog if we guess correctly. Flitwick said this game was all the rage in Ravenclaw when he was young, and I really like the sound of it. We'll see how it goes.

**December 22, Sunday**

Full moon

Started the game. It's really good fun. Flitwick is the Game Master.

There's a war out there, and we're playing literary games.

**December 24, Tuesday**

Christmas Eve. Strangely quiet day. Everyone seems to be in their chambers, or else left for their family homes. I've decided to go to the Muggle midnight service tonight, because it's always given me a very good, warm feeling, and I haven't gone for about three years already.

Spent a couple of hours wrapping up my presents and enchanting my glass stars. They are now filled with strands of mist inside which sparkles if you shake the star, and play 'Holy Night' softly for a minute if you tap them. Oh, and I've made them non-breakable, too!

As for presents: the final list is as follows:

S – bottle of mead

Aurora – gold lunar globe keychain

Flitwick – set of silver bookmarks

Dumbledore – set of gold bookmarks, yes, yes, I know, I know... I just really didn't know what to give him.

Night: Back from the service. I feel as if my whole soul is filled with mulled wine – warm, glowing and quietly joyful. I went to the nearest Muggle village (about fifteen miles from here), and since it was Christmas and lots of people were in the church, nobody paid much attention to a newcomer. Some people looked at me curiously as I sat there in the back pew, but I just smiled at them, and they smiled back and wished me Happy Christmas, and I wished them Happy Christmas in return, and they accepted my presence. (Wonder how many of my fellow wizards would have chosen to Confund the whole parish instead!) And of course, in the festive hubbub and greetings after the service, no-one noticed me skinchange quietly behind a headstone in the churchyard and leave.

**December 25, Wednesday**

Ding dong merrily on high! Christmas Day! In spite of all the tension out there and a rather exhausting term, I'm still happy like a schoolboy. I'm off to the Christmas breakfast, during which I'm intending to give out my presents. Hm. Actually, I think I like giving presents just as much as getting them!

I've received lots of cards this year again, and a few very nice presents, such as: new pair of socks (orange with white stripes), from Aunt Vi, of course; a Muggle detective story from Aurora (she put me onto them, in the first place!) – never heard of the writer before, Elizabeth George, but it's a murder story and it looks like the whole thing is set in a school; my favourite type then! I love academic murders. Flitwick gave me a long knitted scarf (unexpected, admittedly! One more for my collection!), and the Head presented me with a beautiful paper knife shaped like a claymore (seems he is aware of my unhealthy attraction to knives and swords!). My presents seem to have left them happy, too!

And as for Sev.'s present, I was left speechless for a while when I opened it. It's a small wall calendar, with pictures for each month, and the pictures are all his own work. All his own drawings. I'm more moved than I can possibly describe. He did tell me I was the only person he'd ever shown or in fact mentioned them to, and he forbade me to tell anybody about them, even though they are very good. I suppose he's always thought it was much too human a thing for him to do, like a hobby, and anyone knowing about him doing drawings from time to time would break his carapace of impenetrable cold and severity. Which is true, in fact. And here he is, giving me twelve of his pictures just like that. Various views of the school grounds and the surrounding area – the Forest, the mountains,

the road to Hogsmeade, glimpses of the castle through trees and mist, in pencil and ink. What a wonderful—

There's a view of my tower for August. Aaaaah. Sevvie.

Yes, I am sentimental.

**December 26, Thursday**

Ooof. Finally back home after a very packed day! I paid visits to all three of my Britain-based aunts and to Aunt Marrion, was well-fed by them all (more than well, really, I wasn't sure I'd be able to Apparate when I left Aunt Isolde's), admired Auntie Vi's new kitchen and Uncle Benedict's new workshop (he's building a working model of an eighteenth-century balloon now. I should get him acquainted with Arthur Weasley, really), and was introduced to my new niece called Maria Mirabella in the Black Forest. A very pleasing, sort of warm and family-fun filled day it's been.

Aargh! Checked the parchment in the staff room – I've been 'arrested' in that game of ours, and my cunningly concealed word has been guessed! But as I'm innocent actually, the quest continues.

**December 27, Friday**

Spent all day reading with my feet on the grate. Elizabeth George is great! Oh, and I forgot to put down that the book is called Well-Schooled in Murder. It features Inspector Thomas Lynley. The language is great, and the plot seems to be fiendishly complicated. I'm loving it. If I'm not disappointed by the time I've finished, I think I'll look for more Inspector Lynley stories.

**December 28, Saturday**

Yess! We've outed our criminal, and it's been Madam Hooch! I never suspected her myself! But I did win a couple of Chocolate Frogs for getting other people's words right.

**December 31, Tuesday**

New Year's Eve! Another year in the offing. I just hope it will be better... I don't really believe it, but I hope so. I hope so.

We're having a party tonight in the staff room again. I'm not sure it will be as jolly as last year's though.


	14. January Again

**January 1, Wednesday**

New Year's Day

Noon: No, it was a pretty jolly party after all! And very long one, too! I've only just got up.

I think I'll move to London for a few days, just for a change of scenery. I'll pack a few of my books and spend some time in my poor neglected flat.

**January 2, Thursday**

Finished Elizabeth George! It's really quite good, you know. Very intricate and convoluted, quite gripping. Tragic in parts. I think I'll try and find her other books with Inspector Lynley. There are at least four: A Great Deliverance, Payment in Blood, A Suitable Vengeance, For the Sake of Elena. For now, am starting WSiM again, to see what all the hints mean now that I know what really happened.

**January 3, Friday**

Feels really weird to cook for oneself after the well-catered life at the school. Almost like an adventure. I never used to like cooking, but after a long break it's almost pleasant, especially if you get something edible in the end!

**January 5, Sunday**

Last day of the holidays. I promised to accompany Molly Weasley as she goes shopping today. Arthur's very busy at the Ministry, so she needs another bodyguard.

Evening: Back at school. Duty done. The term begins tomorrow – I wish it wouldn't.

**January 6, Monday**

Term begins.

Looks like a few third-years have dropped out of my classes (namely Mary Peters, Victoria Collins, Emmanuel Oldman and Dora Conrcrake). Well, I can't say I'm displeased since they had not managed to make any impression on me whatso-bloody-ever during the whole of the winter term.

**January 8, Wednesday**

Oh dear, I'm so tired! Usual stuff at the start of term.

**January 9, Thursday**

Sev.'s birthday. As usual, he keeps it a secret. Although this year, I did catch the Head's congratulatory murmur as he passed us before breakfast.

In the evening, went down to his dungeon. I gave him his new knife, which he seemed to like. Then we drank a little wine and talked, and he said a phrase that made me very uneasy: 'I think I've had an eventful life. It may have been lousy and frankly, I'd have preferred things very different; but it's been eventful.' I told him that thirty-seven was hardly an age for such end-of-life ruminations, but he looked at me very weirdly – sort of... yeah, sort of pityingly and even kindly, and said: 'It's a good age to sum a few things up, though, Rick.' He was very mellow. I don't like that at all. Obviously I'm very happy that he wasn't bitter or angry on his own birthday, but this unwonted mildness scares me. It's as if he were terminally ill, and decided to spend his last months being nicer; or, indeed, as if I were terminally ill and he was trying to make me feel better. This is just so much unlike him.

And that Christmas present of his. Now I think about it, it's taken on a much more sinister dimension. It's started to look like a goodbye gift, you know, something to be remembered by, a memento. Oh dear. Oh dear. I'm beginning to feel very scared.

I suppose it's only now that the reality of what he's doing for us has actually hit me.

**January 10, Friday**

Oh dear...

He came over today and said:

'Look, I've been thinking of what you said yesterday, that thirty-seven is not an age to sum things up... I've been thinking and thinking and I've finally decided to tell you. There's one final thing that you didn't know about me. And I want you to know now. Because let's not mince words, I might not have all that long to live and I don't want to have any more secrets from you. At least no more than I can help.'

I was sort of worried by this beginning, but of course I was willing to listen to whatever he had to tell me.

And he told me. And I don't know what to do with it now. No, don't get me wrong. I don't feel any different about him, even more desperately sorry for him if anything. It's just... all my taunts and preaching and trying to get him to live a normal life... and all this time, he's been living with THIS.

See, it even takes some time for me to muster up my own courage and put it down in writing.

He was the one who brought over the prophecy that resulted in Lily and James Potter's deaths to the Dark Lord. He was the one. He was the reason the woman he loved died. And he's been living with this. All this time.

That's where that pang came from when the Prophecy was mentioned last year, now I see. Oh, this is just... this is just so... I feel so wretched I just don't know what to write any more.

**January 11, Saturday**

Saw S at breakfast for the first time since yesterday and realised I had difficulties breathing. He must have noticed, because he caught me afterwards – actually, quite literally caught me by the front of my jumper, forced me back down into my chair and hissed, glaring down at me:

'I forbid you to feel sorry for me, do you hear me? I forbid you to feel sorry for me! I told you all that yesterday so that you should lose your romantic preconceptions about me at last, so that you should know that it was my guilt and concern for what was dear to me alone, and not my winning good nature, that brought me over to Dumbledore! I wanted you to know the exact extent of the darkness in me! Don't you dare feel sorry!'

'I can't help it,' I said. 'The darkness in you is why I feel sorry.'

'Well then keep it inside you, and don't show it. I've told you and told you, I am in no need of your compassion, or anyone else's! Don't look at me like that! Don't try to stand near me in tragic understanding silence! Don't be so weak!'

'I'll try to be strong, Severus. Like you,' I said. He cast me a glance full of hatred, and left.

Later: Although actually, he's right. Yes, it's completely horrible and tragic and desperately heart-wrenching if you think about him and Lily, and also about him and Harry Potter, the boy who reminds him with his very face about the things he lost, or rather, the things he willingly gave away and then realised when it was too late he wanted them back. But that's only Harry Potter. All of his guilt and desperation do not in any way justify his treatment of all the other children, say poor Neville. So he may be a tragic figure steeped in deepest remorse and personal tragedy, but he is also an evil bullying git, and that's all there is to it.

Right. Yes. I've stopped being weak about it.

**January 12, Sunday**

I keep thinking about it though. And I keep remembering Lily as I knew her. Lily Evans, the beautiful Gryffindor red-head, Head Girl, top of class in everything. I remember seeing her in the Hospital Wing one evening, when she tried to talk to me and I wouldn't listen. Yes, right, I had to come down to Madam Pomfrey because I'd been bitten quite badly on the nose by a biting book, one of a load I'd been helping Madam Pince to sort in my detention for having set my Latro on Peter Pettigrew earlier on, and I was bleeding like mad, and it hurt so badly, too, so I took the potion Madam Pomfrey had given me and sat down on one of the beds, my head tilted back, breathing with my mouth open and waiting for the pain and bleeding to stop. Then the door opened and Lily came in and I remember feeling a pang of acute discomfort at being discovered in such an ignominious situation by an attractive girl. She said hello, walked over to Madam Pomfrey's little cubicle and asked for something for headache. Then she started back, then paused, hovered near me and said:

'Look, you're Roderick Heald, aren't you?'

'At your service,' I answered thickly, without moving.

'Can I have a word?'

'Sure,' I said. I thought it was about my attack on her fellow Gryffindor, so I was exceedingly surprised when she sat down on the bed opposite and said:

'Look, Roderick. I've seen you together with Severus—Severus Snape, and I—I wanted to talk to you about it.'

'What's wrong with that? We're friends!' Then I remembered. 'I know you used to be friends before, and then you fell out, but does that mean nobody else can be his friend? Almost nobody else is in the first place, it's only me who likes him.'

'It's not that,' she said, and I remember she looked genuinely worried, even pained. 'It's very good you've taken upon yourself to like someone who's friendless, that's very noble of you, but do you know why he has no friends but you?'

'Because he's not handsome and he's a loner and a bookworm and he knows more magic than anyone in our year and he's hated by Potter and Black,' I answered decisively. 'Nobody wants to argue with Potter and Black.' Then I realised I was actually accusing her of all this, so I added: 'As for why you fell out, well I suppose you had your reasons... personal reasons.'

'We fell out,' she said angrily, 'because he believes in things I cannot believe in and shares an ideology I cannot share. We fell out because he wants to follow You-Know-Who, to be a Death Eater. He believes Muggles and Muggle-borns to be no better than dirt on his boots. That's why I'm talking to you now. I know you're not like that.'

'But that's complete nonsense,' I said. I was so surprised at what she was saying I forgot to keep my head back and stared at her, and my nose began bleeding again. 'That's complete nonsense. His father is a Muggle. What makes you say it?'

'Hasn't he shared these ideas with you?'

'No,' I said, 'nothing like it. Well, we did talk about Muggles once, I remember, and I said I liked Muggle things, and he agreed.'

'But of course he did!' she cried, jumping up. 'You silly boy, of course he did, you are his only friend now, he'd say anything to keep you near him!'

'You mean he'd lie to me?' I said, angrily too.

'Yes he would, and it wouldn't be the first time,' Lily said.

I was deeply stung, but, a true Ravenclaw, I tried to figure things out in a sensible way.

'Look,' I said, trying to keep calm. 'How do you know he wants to join You-Know-Who? Did he tell you?'

'He used to hang out with people who are already known Death Eaters. Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix and Narcissa Black. They were all friends together, and—'

'But of course he'd hang out with them, they were in his House and they liked him, didn't they? They protected him!' I said hotly. 'All right, maybe he did talk the way they did, maybe they did influence him, because they were older and he believed them; but they're not there now, are they? And he doesn't talk like a Death Eater now!'

'He doesn't, to you, because he knows your views and he doesn't want to—to lose you! He doesn't want to be alone!'

It was getting too much for me, and suddenly I thought I had an ironclad argument against her:

'Look, Lily. I'm sure you mean what you say and I thank you for being so concerned, but, believe me, you're wrong. You simply can't be right. He may not be an easy and charming person, I'm far from idealising him. But one thing you can't deny is that he is clever. He's sensible. He's sane. And that is why he can't be a Death Eater, because it's a completely stupid, completely illogical and harebrained ideology and nobody in their right mind can actually share it!'

She looked at me pityingly then.

'I'm really sorry for you, Roderick. You seem to be blind, and when you do see the light, it will come as a great and painful shock.' With that, she shook her beautiful head and went. And I didn't have to spend much time convincing myself that she was wrong, that Severus was all right. I didn't have any difficulty in ignoring her words and never questioning Sev. about his true views because I hated the very idea of anything alienating him from me, because then I would be quite alone too, and I didn't want that, and deep down, I preferred to stay blind to keep the friendship safe.

She was right, though, wasn't she? What a shock it was... what a shock. I was in Sweden, and we'd actually almost lost touch with Sev. but I wasn't too concerned – I had things to do, things galore, making new friends and learning new magic, so the fact that his letters became shorter and scarcer didn't really bother me: he had his own things to do, and of course, I thought sagely, people do get separated after school, and we'd already been three years out of school; and anyway, if he didn't want to keep in touch, it was his own funeral... and then I got the news of Voldemort's fall, and then Ruthwell sent me the a copy of the Prophet announcing the coming trials because he thought he recognised a name I'd mentioned – and I saw 'Severus Snape, proven Death Eater, to be tried for his crimes' on the list, and I remembered the conversation in the Hospital Wing and understood that Lily had been right all along... and I knew it was all my fault, my fault, my fault, because I'd left him alone and let him wander off course and ignored the warning and been such a bad friend to him, so selfish... and I rushed to London as the trial was to take place the next day, and went to the Ministry and accosted Dumbledore in the corridor and pleaded with him saying it was my fault, it was all my fault, sir, please, please don't put him in Azkaban because it was my selfishness that pushed him on that path! I think I must have whimpered helplessly, and he looked at me sternly and said, 'Come with me.' And then there was the trial that is the stuff of my worst nightmare, and he sat there chained to the chair, Dementors on both sides of him, pale, and defiant, and never looking up, and answering just Yes or No, and then Dumbledore vouched for him, saying he had been spying for us, at mortal peril for himself, and that he was not a Death Eater any more! And then he was cleared, and released, and then suddenly gone, and I had to spend three days looking for him relentlessly in my new-found animal form, up and down the country because all I'd seen when he'd taken me home that time by Side-Along-Apparition had been that huge chimney towering over his street and he'd been too embarrassed to actually tell me where he lived and I'd never pressed him, and I found him and realised there was only one thing I could do to put things right, to balance the scales, to atone for what I had done, or rather not done... And then, years and years later, I learned what Lily had been, and was, and is, to Severus.

**January 13, Monday**

Just learned accidentally that the Minister came over to the Burrow during the Christmas holidays and tried to talk to Harry Potter, to talk him into helping the Ministry, and HP flatly refused saying he was Dumbledore's man and not the Ministry's. Nice attitude. Come to think of it, it doesn't look like Dumbledore himself is giving any help to Scrimgeour either. The Order is still half-underground. I don't think that's quite fair on Scrimgeour. We're fighting on the same side and he does seem to fight, he's all right really, he sees the danger and tries to avert it and we still treat him like an enemy, as if all he did was carrying on with Fudge's policies. Well, yes, he does blunder along, but at least his heart is in the right place. We give him no help then accuse him of being ineffectual. And he does give us help all right – those Aurors stationed in the village, and I heard that HP and the Weasley kids had Aurors accompanying them to King's Cross in September. All of that seems to be taken for granted though.

It's not that I'm so happy about Scrimgeour's actions, I just want to be fair. Everyone has a right to be treated fairly, and that's exactly what does not seem to happen in his case.

**January 14, Tuesday**

Finally started reading the Gormenghast trilogy. Everyone keeps mentioning it, and I feel it's time I caught up. It's incredibly difficult reading, but enjoyable in a sort of ponderous, Wagnerian way. Will persevere.

**January 16, Thursday**

Merlin, I don't believe it. I'm now taking a break from things, doing my research of the existing translation of ES, and BLEEDING HELL!! Whoever taught these people! How did they have the guts to have their names on the front cover! I could scream every time I see their mistakes because they are heinous. I've read a few examples out to Sev., he's over here for a cuppa at the moment, and even he, a person unlikely to betray emotions and more than likely to scoff at mine, just shook his head unbelievingly and said, "How come it got published?" I wish I knew, my dearest friend, I wish I knew!

It almost makes me lose control, this. If there's an a sudden unexplained explosion at the office of Roseman Publishers reported in tomorrow's Prophet, I'll know exactly who'll be to blame. And it won't be Lord Voldemort.

**January 17, Friday**

Father's birthday. I so wish I could spend the evening sitting by the fire and leafing through a family album, recalling him. It's weird, really, that having no photographs of your family is almost as depressing as having no family itself. If I'd known... if there'd been a way of telling... of course I'd have taken a whole album with me to school, and not just that one little picture which is all I've got left. It's incredible, really. A family which can trace itself back to the Middle Ages, and what have I got by way of heirlooms? One frozen photograph and Mother's wooden comb. Well, since the line ends in me... I suppose it's befitting.

Good job they aren't moving in this picture. It would be unbearable to see them smiling happily and waving their hands. Well, it was unbearable, that's why I stopped them moving back then.

**January 19, Sunday**

Full moon

I am sinking in that book. I have started to think slowly, to let my thoughts run like slow streams of treacle. I can feel my vocabulary changing, growing ripe with long, slow words. I do not have any wish to analyse or dissect, merely to describe what goes on inside my head in long, poetic periods and strange, dark metaphors I would otherwise have hardly conceived. Maybe I should take it in doses, limiting my intake to a few chapters a week, on Saturday nights, say, and read something else on other days, otherwise I might completely forget how to use my familiar everyday English. This book – see, even now I'm crossing out and rethinking and rephrasing my budding sentence – is amazing in what it does with language, or rather, what language does through it. I don't think I have ever felt this way about a book before. (Once before, yes, once. When I was fourteen and first read some Shakespeare and wanted to speak in iambic pentameter for the rest of the day.) It takes language to new frontiers, and it lives in ways so unexpected and even bizarre as to be totally wonderful, that is, full of wonder. I must stop this before I get in full stride; I might produce a volume of opaque prose to compare with Gormenghast itself if I get myself go on in this vein for much longer.

**January 20, Monday**

I'm going to take a rather risky step. I'm going to give my students songs of my own invention to translate into Runes. To my third-years, that is. I'm not too happy with the English texts the textbook provides, so I'll have to do something myself as there are no source texts I could use. The technology's already a tried and trusted one, I had children at Durmstrang back-translating my own texts into English all the time, but I haven't tried it with Runes yet. Somehow I'm afraid to be judged, because they will undoubtedly ask who rote them and I will tell them. Scary. On the other hand, their task is to bloody use the appropriate Runic formula, not to admire the beauty of the writing.

Wonder if I'll end up inventing another fictional character like I did at Durmstrang. Was fun, that. I should have realised I was a compulsive writer even then, actually! Where are you now, Wilfred Wellington, bard and traveller? What are you up to in the Land of Where All Abandoned Fictional Characters Go?

No I will NOT write Runic sagas about him. I will NOT. No.

**January 22, Wednesday**

I've finally finished checking the spells Dumbledore asked me to check. They seem to be OK, I've reinforced a few dwimmercraft ones. Wonder if they hold now. I was really impressed by the amount and power of magic that protects the castle, I must say. If Death Eaters attack us, they'll have to spend a lot of time breaking through.

**January 23, Thursday**

Had a letter from Sigismund Pollack asking me whether I wanted to go to Kitezh with an inspection this year as a member of the Committee. I answered in the positive, of course I'd love to go, but it depends on whether I can be spared from the school. It would be pretty inconvenient to Floo back and forth, and anyway I have to check everything if I'm a Controller, so I'll have to stay there a few days. The Headmaster wasn't there, so I couldn't ask him.

The new Wilfred saga coming along nicely.

**January 24, Friday**

Dammit! Just my luck. I've just broken a tooth! That's what comes out of having tea with almond biscuits. One of the almonds proved too much for my tooth! Well, yes, admittedly, it was the one that had already had a massive filling in the middle, but still. I'll go down to the Hospital Wing, it's not hurting, being nerveless, but the jagged edge still feels nasty in my mouth.

**January 25, Saturday**

Nyyyaarghwwwwmmm. Madam P gave a potion to regrow the tooth last night, and it is regrowing, and it bloody hurts now! She said it would, and furnished me with a painkiller, and I've already taken it but it's still aching. I'm waiting for it to stop, in the meantime I don't want to do anything except just sit in my armchair with my knees drawn up, stare at the fire and feel unhappy. I've got things to do, books to read, but I just don't want to.

**January 27, Monday**

Training sessions have been restarted today. Dumbledore does take things seriously. Prof. McG also said that it is his wish that any three of us (us meaning teachers and Order members) should always be patrolling the school whenever he's away.

**January 29, Wednesday**

Been on patrol duty today with Flitwick and Remus Lupin, the Head was away again. Walked along the quiet corridors, clunking my staff menacingly on the stone flags, sending Patronuses to them every half an hour and receiving theirs. Dumbledore came back at about half past one, and, in his turn, used his Patronus to relieve us. I must say, his phoenix looks very imposing. Flitwick was surprised mine wasn't a unicorn any longer, so after we were relieved I spent another half-hour chatting to him about Old Magic. Remus said he was a bit shocked by the shape of my Patronus, and I suppose my dragon does look slightly scary!

Funny that I don't really know when my Patronus changed, was it because of the new wand, or was it when I acquired my animal form, which is apparently when Old Magic takes hold of you for real. Or maybe it was when I had my own ring made. That was cool, that... a proud freshly-made wicca swapping his standard institutional pendant lent by the School for his very own amulet before the graduation ceremony, and the silversmith asked me (in the same tone of voice as he had just asked me if I preferred gold, silver, bronze or copper) whether I wanted to add my blood into the silver for that extra connection, and I did, making a little cut on my finger. Then he handed me the ring after forty minutes, still warm, I put it on, felt that rush of energy go through me and, slightly apprehensive, I pronounced the healing incantation (half expecting to blast my own finger off) and saw new skin cover the scratch instantly – and I knew I was a proper warlock!

**January 30, Thursday**

Well, Wilfred Wellington is making his first appearance in a new guise today. Sveinbjörn Snæbjörnsson. Sounds impressive.

I am insane. This is suicide.

Later, in class: Whew. My hands are shaking slightly but it seems to be all right. They are translating now, nobody's sniggering or anything, nobody asks any questions.

After classes: Double whew! It's all right, it's fine. Their reaction in both classes to my telling them I had written the saga was 'Cool, sir!' So I'm cool. Whew. Well, whatever. I really shouldn't worry so much about my standing with students, I really should be more like Sev. in this respect who does not give a toss, he just bloody well teaches them. But the trouble is, he hates them and I don't.

**January 31, Friday**

Prof. Sprout's birthday. As usual, celebrated it with her home-made cakes during the breaks.


	15. February Again

**February 7, Friday**

Oh dear, we're a week into February and I haven't made a single entry yet. Well, not all that much to record. Nothing, really. But I'll get back to trying to have an entry a day because this diary is among the few exercises in self-discipline that I have and I really oughtn't to let myself go. If there's nothing happening I'll just record the weather.

**February 8, Saturday**

It's raining.

Incredibly informative entry.

**February 9, Sunday**

Looks like spring is on the way. It's been raining since yesterday, and not a single patch of snow remains on the lawn or the roofs now. Everything is damp.

**February 10, Monday**

Oh dammit. I wanted to take the fifth-years out to the British Museum, like last year, but this time, I had to talk to the Headmaster to ask for permission for the Portkey, and he said the didn't think he was happy with the idea of a dozen kids wandering around London with only one adult for company. As any other teacher coming with us was out of the question (two teachers missing on the same day is too much, of course), the whole thing went out of the window. I'm not saying I don't see his point, but I'm really annoyed nevertheless. I wish I had some good pictures to show them at least, but I don't have many.

**February 11, Tuesday**

Ya-hey!! I am going to Kitezh!!! It has taken me a while to get to talk to Dumbledore, but the important thing is that HE ALLOWED ME TO GO!

It will be very interesting to see it again. Last time I was there, only the building itself was in place, the school had not been opened yet, so we sat in conference and tried to decide how best to go about reviving institutionalised magical education in Russia. All they had decided on before was that they were going to use dwimmercraft rather than Modern Magic. That was probably the first and the last time I have seen the whole of the Board, by the way, the six other international dwimmercraft experts, the four Russian wizards and the official from the Russian Muggle government.

**February 12, Wednesday**

I really should have thought of this before. I'm off to London with my camera. The British Museum will still be open for another couple of hours, and they do allow visitors to take pictures. I may be a lousy and amateur photographer, but what the hell!.. better than nothing, surely!

Evening: Well, having concocted a developing potion from ingredients scrounged off Sev. and spent a couple of hours putting it to use, I can confidently say that I have been a moron. I should have done this years ago. I've now got a portfolio of fairly tolerable photographs, and my five-years are in for a picture lesson!

**February 14, Friday**

Valentine's Day. Bleeurgh.

Noon: Bloody hell, I've just realised! There hasn't been a single card for me, not a single look in my direction, not a single blush! Really, I'm almost disappointed! (Insert huge grin here.) Apparently last year I was sort of popular because I was new. Now I'm a permanent fixture, so I just blend into the background with all the other boring old sods.

**February 16, Sunday**

Full moon

Spending the full-moon night in attempts to facilitate my communication with the indigenous population in Kitezh. I suddenly remembered the Babel Fish from Douglas Adams a few days ago and thought it would be a good idea to make something like that to help me understand what the Russians will be saying (I'm not at all certain I remember enough Russian for that – I've never known more than just scraps anyway). Now getting down to it. First of all, I created a small gold fish. I don't really relish the idea of letting anything small loose in my ear, so I've fashioned a little bent wire for it to hang from, to fit around my ear so that it dangles right beside it. So far so good. Looks attractive. Given it a small tinkly voice. Now will try and make it translate.

3:40 a.m.: It has been a full-scale fiasco, and I'm very happy I live alone on top of a tower and there's no-one about to be roughly awakened by my hysterical laughter in the dead of night. I've heard about the Muggle experiments in the area of machine-translation, and it looks like the magic and the Muggle folk are equally helpless here. Apparently you need a living brain to translate things, technology or magic just doesn't work. The very first attempt made me suspect the futility of my efforts: the Russian "Welcome" was translated as "Good to grant". After I understood how it had happened and was done laughing, I tried the fish again with something less idiomatic. It didn't help though: "I closed the door behind myself" turned into "I shut after itself door". "The peace of science" as an equivalent for "the world of scholarship" I liked a lot, and "My clock is too fast" translated as "My hours hurry" just about killed me. When the fish, given the phrase "I will be translating for you", said it will "for me transfer", I understood I had failed. Now I'm just having fun trying to guess what the fish will give me in its pleasant little voice as I feed it phrases. "In me the tooth aches" was good. "The knitted nose edge" wasn't half bad either (a knitted sock was what I meant, and use me indecently in a non-conventional manner if I can explain the logic behind this). "The rain goes" (it's raining). "To lengthen the hand of the friendship" (to extend).

Oh no, this will be the death of me! I decided to end my conversation by sending the fish to hell, which it duly translated as... "go to the feature"!!!

I'll just put it on my table as an ornament.

**February 17, Monday**

So tired after not sleeping I couldn't fight properly today, and Charity got the better of me. She was so happy, bless her.

**February 18, Tuesday**

Can't think about anything but my upcoming journey. Very happy. Nice to miss some classes, and also it's been a year and a half since I last was abroad for longer than an afternoon. Also, will be nice to be on my own, not in anyone's employ but actually a visiting authority, an international expert!

**February 19, Wednesday**

Spent the time after dinner putting enchantments on my classroom so that when the Monday and Tuesday groups come in, it should (a) recognise who's missing – I have told them I'd be gone so someone might decide to take the time off (it doesn't bother me: their loss, in the long run, but I'd like to have a record all the same), and (b) hand out and collect the assignments I've left for them. It won't keep them from talking and taking advice off one another, but, as I keep repeating, it won't help them anyway.

**February 20, Thursday**

Natalie Worming and Keira Thewlis keep asking me all sort of questions. When they get an answer, they look and each other and giggle, or converse rapidly in an undertone. I don't know what they're up to, but it looks to me they're either writing poetry or else translating a saga, possibly ES. I wonder if I'll ever know.

**February 21, Friday**

I'm going tomorrow! Spent all day in joyful agitation, packing my bag and receiving last-minute instructions from Pollack.

6 PM: Am in London. Setting off for the International Dept and the Portkey they're arranging for me in fifteen minutes.

**February 23, Sunday**

Yay! I'm in Kitezh. Arrived late in the evening yesterday (there's a time difference, of course, so by the time I arrived it was actually half past ten), so all that could be done was just for me to be shown my room and go to bed. I didn't really see anything much in the dark but what I could see was great. Actually, the word I want to use is 'magical', but that's stupid, of course. Fairy-tale-like, perhaps.

It is so impressive, really, when you arrive. The Portkey took me to the shore of the lake, and of course all you see is the reflection in the water, this large, rippling image of a huge wooden structure, lights in the windows, and NOTHING on the island itself, just dark and rather forbidding trees. Then, as instructed (and as remembered), I whistled and a skiff materialised before me, and the second I stepped inside, dropping my bag to the bottom and taking up the oars, I saw the castle itself, and the large brightly-painted boats they use to ferry students to the mainland. The water in the lake is, of course, not frozen over. That's how they actually found the place where the old fortress used to be, when someone intelligent suspected this non-freezing over might have something to do with magic.

I'm just basically taken around and shown things. I think I'll record this as a disjointed series of impressions. I don't really seem to have time for any lengthy prose-writing.

The fortress itself (they call it 'terem') is built entirely of wood, and on the outside it's already gone silvery grey, not bright yellow as it was when I was last here, and the walls are already covered with lichen and moss in some places so that it all corresponds beautifully to the tall pines and firs that surround it, making it all look sort of austere and imposing. The roofs are covered with copper tiles, which shine rosily in the sun, and also with little squares (I presume it's either tin or glazed tiles) that are yellow and green, and red and blue. It's very pretty. There's a smooth sandy road leading to the gates from the edge of the lake.

The food's pretty good. For breakfast today, we had tea, fried eggs, porridge and pirozhki. Then there was what they call 'poldnik', a light meal at about noontime, and it's a cup of warm mead (something like Butterbeer, but herbier and spicier, lovely stuff) or milk, with pirozhki again. Now we've just had lunch, and it was borsht served with sour cream, then buckwheat with stewed meat, all sorts of salads to choose from, like pickled cucumbers, cabbage and apples, fresh carrots and other greens. For dinner, they are promising pancakes. They eat all together like we do, with teachers having a table on their own and kids sat according to—to what? House? I haven't been told yet, and last time I was here they were still deciding on the principle of division.

The interiors are very cheerful, the rooms are large, and even though they have low ceilings, they are vast and therefore seem airy and spacious. They are lit with candles and also funny little splinters of wood they call 'luchinas'. Each student has his or her own, and they can put them in a metal holder they have on the table and ignite them if they think there's not enough light. (And it is pretty dark outside.) As far as I have seen, they seem to be everlasting. The windows are rather small and cosy-looking, and are for the most part glazed with stained-glass panes, just stained glass – yellow, green, pink and light blue, no figures or inscriptions. The overall effect is very warm and cheerful. I've already been to a couple of classes.

There are many students, and it looks like they decided not to bother with any uniform after all, so the students mainly wear jeans and shirts and pullovers, which admittedly does clash a little with the Mediaeval interiors.

They've given me a very nice little room ('svetyolka') in the teachers' tower with a big bed, a large chest for my things and a small six-legged carved-wood table brightly painted with birds and flowers. It's pretty warm, here and everywhere else. The rooms (mine included) are heated by stoves, which are large and covered with beautiful glazed tiles.

Two of the towers nearest the lake are where the students live. There's also the teachers' tower, the one closest to the forest, and two more housing various facilities (the library, which is very large and well-appointed, the infirmary, the workshops etc.). All the towers (apart from the teachers' tower for some reason) are connected, by means of galleries, with the central 'keep', which is where all the classrooms are and the dining hall and the Head's study. There are also covered walkways running along the top of all the walls (parts are off-limits to students). I've now got a visit to the student quarters planned.

There are no Houses here, but parallels, A and B. They don't live in the parallels though: the boys and the girls sleep in different towers, and they have small rooms there, not large dormitories, two students to each, irrespective of parallel as far as I could see. Each parallel in each year has a form-master or mistress, and a Prefect. There are more teachers here than there are at Hogwarts, because they seem to have more subjects. I was wrong by the way: the tables in the dining room are, accordingly, not for Houses and not even for parallels, which seems to be a purely technical division, but for years.

The garden between the buildings is where they have Herbology lessons in the summer (in the winter they mainly do dried herbs, all sorts of preserving techniques and such, and there's also a greenhouse at the back of the castle). It's beautiful, you can see it even now when everything is covered with snow. There are apple-trees and even lemon-trees there, and various flowers. Behind the castle there are also pens for animals. I seem to have a visit there scheduled for tomorrow.

Oh, I forgot: the Head's study is very funny. It's a large room again, also with stained glass and a low ceiling and massive furniture and delicate paintings of flowers and birds on the rafters, and there's this huge oak desk carved with mythical beasts, and on it there are stacks of ordinary Muggle paper and Muggle pens and pencils! I think I even saw a telephone. Oh and, the Headmistress's name is Marya Morevich. (And my friend Oleg Volkhov has been promoted to Deputy Head this year!)

It's evening now, and we've had the pancakes (stuffed with meat and fish! So unusual! But actually rather tasty) for dinner, followed by more pancakes, with jam, and tea. I'm now pleasurably tired. I'll have to go to bed early, in spite of the broom-lag and the general excitement, I have to be early up tomorrow.

**February 24, Monday**

My Russian is atrocious. I'm so ashamed. I thought I knew a bit of it from last time but it transpires I've forgotten almost all I've ever known. Or, rather, I do understand about half of what they're saying, but the moment I open my mouth to say something I realise I don't know which case form to use and I forget all the words and everything, and all in all, I'm very happy I have an interpreter because the third time it happened, I decided I'd stop showing off and just bloody well speak English. She's one of the English teachers (there are TWO here! I do wish we'd take a leaf out of their book at Hogwarts!), her name is Lyudmila Chernomor, she's a very enthusiastic young witch who has to skip some of her classes because she acts as my interpreter but she seems to be rather pleased about it, really. She was very happy to talk to a real English speaker – they normally get Controllers from Norway or Iceland or Finland (well, as I am the only Brit on the Committee, it's hardly surprising!). She's got a charming accent. I've noticed before that for some reason, Russian accent sounds incredibly nice in women, sort of disarmingly naive and sincere. (All accents sound nice in their way, now that I think about it. Which goes no way at all towards explaining why I try so much to eliminate any trace of my English accent when I speak a foreign language. Oh well.)

I've asked, and they also have house-elves here, or rather, a slightly different sort of creature that helps them run the castle. They are called Domovoy, and everyone treads very carefully around them and tries their best not to upset them, because otherwise they'll just leave. They don't get paid for what they do either, apparently they take pleasure in cooking and tidying up, but they aren't enslaved and there's nothing to stop them if they decide to throw in the towel and go and look for some other place to have this pleasure at.

The school sport is Quidditch, they play parallel against parallel. I've just been to a Quidditch lesson. As for the rest of them, and here's another thing I think we (and Durmstrang!) might borrow: those who don't play Quidditch have other games, there's a sports hall at the base of one of the towers and there they can play all sorts of active games.

There are more subjects here than there are at Hogwarts, I was right. They study Old Russian as the traditional magic language, and they have all the other conventional magical courses like Transfiguration and Charms and Potions and Astronomy, but they also give 'ordinary' subjects, as they call them, like Modern Russian and even Maths, and they also have Crafts which is a very good thing. And of course they have English. Lyuda invited me to talk to her kids a little during one of her lessons, the one I was attending as Controller. It was really quite impressive, the way they speak.

It is actually so WEIRD to see dwimmercraft taught to children. Apparently wand-waving has never been very popular in Russia. It's incredibly strange when you come into a room and it's full of ten-year-old children concentrating on, say, levitating their pencils (did I mention the students, too, use Muggle notebooks and pens and pencils?), but instead of the traditional shouts of 'Wingardium Leviosa' and the 'swish and flick', they say the Old Russian words (I shall NOT try and reproduce them here as it is totally beyond me) and wave their hands about!

I've been shown around the grounds and been to the pens behind the castle. I've seen funny little hump-backed ponies munching hay, and also beautiful birds who nestle in the garden. There are many different sorts, the names I've remembered are Sirins, Alkonosts and Zharptitsas (jarp-TIT-seh. I'll get Sev. to try and pronounce this on the first attempt when I get back to Hogwarts).

**February 25, Tuesday**

They are not all skinchangers though! Those who want to learn to skinchange have to take an extra month-long summer course after they graduate, actually also here at Kitezh. Well, that's only logical, since if all of the kids learn to turn into animals from the very start there'll be loads of trouble if they start going into the forest or flying or swimming away and getting lost.

I'm so happy they gave me a camera at the Dept to make pictures to accompany the report! I've already made about two hundred pictures.

Am off to my final meal here.

***

It's nine o'clock now and I'm back at Hogwarts, happy and content, but also sort of sad, because the experience was truly wonderful and I'm sorry it's over. I'll make doubles of the pictures and browse through them on rainy afternoons.

**February 26, Wednesday**

Aunt Florence's birthday. Sent her a card and a box of chocol— ouch! Oww! Sev, stop it, STOP IT, whatever you are doing! What is going on? It's past curfew, for Merlin's sake, you can't have run into Harry Potter in the corridor and it's not detention night either!

He's not in his office or his chambers. Weird. Owwwwww...

**February 27, Thursday**

Lovely. Just had great conversation with Sev. in undertones in staff room.

'What was wrong with you last night?'

'Nothing.'

'I couldn't find you.'

'I was talking to Dumbledore in his office.'

'Ah. Right. Was it something he told you that made you so angry?'

'It's none of your business.'

'You said there were going to be no more secrets between us.'

'Well, I lied. I'm not going to involve you in this. And no, there's nothing you can do to help, so why don't you just bugger off?' A glance full of hatred, and he was off to his class.

And all the time, this new pain. Just pain. And cold fury. What the hell is going on, I wonder...

**February 28, Friday**

Wow. Wow-wow-wow! I'm walking on air. I'm feeling very smug indeed! And also very, very happy. I'm not useless after all.

I've just been to the library, getting ready for my Monday class, and Sev. was also there preparing a future lesson on Dementors, and suddenly he asked me:

'Would you say a Patronus is the most effective way of fighting off a Dementor?'

'Well,' I said, 'I've never faced one so I'm not really in a position to tell – which way do you prefer, then?'

'Your way,' he said evenly.

'My way? What do you mean?' Then it dawned on me: 'What, a Latro? Never knew I could use it to fight them off!'

'But isn't it obvious? The Dementor tries to suck you dry of happy memories, so it's bloody hard to concentrate on one to produce a Patronus when you're face to face with it. The Latro, the emanation of your most painful memories – which is exactly what passes before your eyes at that very moment, and very vividly – is much easier to cast. And it's such a cloud of concentrated depression and pain that the Dementor stops sensing you behind it. Most efficient.'

'Sounds convincing,' I said. 'But it's not school stuff, is it?'

'It is now,' he replied calmly.

I thought I had misheard him, and then wild joy bubbled up inside me.

'You don't mean... you'll be telling them about the Latro?'

'I teach Defence, Roderick,' Sev. answered pointedly. 'This is defence.'

I felt incredibly happy, in fact I felt like jumping up and down and I even felt a suicidal urge to hug him!

'It's a good spell,' he continued, 'so I'll teach it. Would you like me to tell them who the originator is?'

"Yes!" I felt like saying, feeling smug as hell. "No-o-o!" I felt like saying, a modest genius. I reconciled the two by striking a deal:

'Only if they ask you.'

'They are bound to ask,' he answered, and I saw he was smiling ever so slightly. 'It's not as yet described in any textbook.'

'Blimey,' I said. 'So I've managed to do something useful with my life after all. My discovery becomes public domain!'

'Don't get over-excited, though,' came his reply. 'Don't forget I only hold this post for one year. It's jinxed, remember? And the next teacher, whoever he or she will be, is unlikely to know anything about the Latro...' He paused, then said with a bitter smile, 'It's unfair, isn't it? I know more than anyone else in here about the Dark Arts. And yet I'll last no longer than Lupin, or Quirrell, or Umbridge or even Lockhart.' And he picked up his parchments and swished away.


	16. March Again

**March 1, Saturday**

Oh dear, another student got hurt. Ron Weasley got himself poisoned, in Slughorn's office of all places. They say they were sharing a drink together – him, Slughorn and Harry Potter because there had been something wrong with Ron and they had asked Slughorn for assistance – and he was the first, and luckily the only one, to have a sip of mead that turned out to have been poisoned, and Harry showed presence of mind enough to quickly locate a bezoar and shove it in Ron's mouth. Ron's still in the Hospital Wing but Madam P says she has almost no doubts he'll soon make a full recovery. It's all very unpleasant and unsettling, and scary, really, and also it's definitely another blow to the school's reputation. Katie Bell was hurt when outside the actual territory of the school, but if the attacks now take place within the castle it'll be much like that time that Sev. described to me in detail, when the basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets was on the loose.

**March 2, Sunday**

I've been asked to make a short summary of a completely incomprehensible text about magical education in South Africa by the International Relations Dept. I don't know why South Africa – maybe they are thinking of borrowing some of their practices or something. I'm at it for the second day running, and it's just a disaster!

Bloody hell, even the parts that are written in more or less decipherable English look like Umbridge has written them and feature sentences like "Common Tasks is an external summative assessment tool that is administered to learners in Grade 9. It provides 25% of the final promotion mark and also moderates the school-based continuous assessment, which provides 75% of the final result of the learner... The new Grade 9 assessment tool also serves as a capacity-building instrument for teachers as it provides examples of performance-based assessment tasks that should be used throughout the year". I understood 'used throughout the year.' The rest leaves me staring blankly into space.

**March 3, Monday**

Just had an owl from the Society with the plans for a new spring conference on Runic translation. I wrote down my ideas and sent it back. I'm happy at the prospect, these conferences are such pleasant events. And they've become annual now, so hey, the Runes Department is actually making a bit of a name for itself!

**March 4, Tuesday**

Brilliant. Have just scheduled a Society meeting for Sunday (Sunday!) the 16th. The only day of the week that all three of us working on the textbook are free.

**March 5, Wednesday**

Dammit. Woke up to find myself unable to talk because of an incredibly sore throat and a fever – again. Stayed in my chambers, having cancelled both the lessons. I really don't like this tendency! I presume it's just because the winter's been so difficult, that I'm so drained of strength and unable to fight infections.

Am teaching tomorrow, though. It won't do to be absent for a week for the second time in three months.

**March 6, Thursday**

Ooof. I'm soooooo tired. I have given my classes all right, but they've shagged me out completely. So much so that I've abandoned my principle of not using magic where I can go without for tonight: these words are even now being written by the quill, which I'm dictating to lying on my bed, while the kettle is hovering beside me and pouring tea into my teacup.

**March 7, Friday**

Business as usual. Classes, classes. Feeling a bit better than yesterday.

**March 8, Saturday**

Go Ravenclaw. There was a Quidditch match today, which Luna Lovegood, of all people, had been chosen to be the commentator of for some reason, and it was the best commentary I've ever heard in my life. Quidditch didn't really enter into it! I like Luna Lovegood a lot. She really has an independent mind, and that it such a rarity. Well, it does make her an oddity, of course... but I think it's worth it, and she does seem to be friends with Hermione Granger and Neville and Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, so she's not a loner.

I hope Harry Potter recovers soon from the blow he received from his Keeper – I suppose it's the first time I've ever heard of a Captain being knocked unconscious by one of his own team-mates!

**March 10, Monday**

The castle is falling apart recent refurbishment notwithstanding. The floor in the staff room's become all wobbly and full of bumps and holes. We're getting someone in to fix it, but unfortunately nobody knows when they will be fixing it. So we have to be very careful, and those of the ladies who favour high heels especially!

Also, looks like we're getting some new bookcases from the Trustees. Again, nobody knows when.

**March 11, Tuesday**

Tara Fuller and Iris Ossett have started sending me bits of their projects. Good girls both, very impressive stuff. There are some mistakes etc, of course, but easy enough to fix.

**March 12, Wednesday**

Weird day. Was feeling so tired (for no apparent reason) that, after classes, went up to my room, flopped on the bed and lay there for two hours, neither sleeping nor awake, in some limbo state of half-thinking, half-dreaming. Never happened to me before. Well, at least I'm rested and active now. Which is very stupid since it's nine o'clock at night!

**March 14, Friday**

Full moon

Aunt Marrion's birthday. I couldn't visit her properly this year, too much to do, and anyway they were very busy what with little Maria Mirabella there too, so I just Flooed quickly over, gave her a kiss on the cheek and a large cake I'd bought in Hogsmeade, and went back.

Then flew around a bit in the dead of night – quite romantic, really. The only downside is that I got really tired, but obviously didn't dare to go to bed before the dawn. So I'm just listening to some music and drinking tea and getting my room in order.

Aha! The first light of the dawn. Lovely, I'm going to have a lie-down then.

**March 15, Saturday**

Just came back from London. Dammit, why am I the only person in the whole Runes Department who knows anything about Muggle gadgets? Nobody else seems to know how to work the VCR or the photocopier. And I mean – if we do have this secret arrangement with the University of London according to which we give occasional lectures to their students and have to use their senior common room and two of their lecture halls together with equipment to conceal the fact that we're wizardfolk – why not teach our people how to handle it beforehand? No, it's always 'Oh, Dr Heald, how do I work this?' It's so embarrassing to have to explain rather simple things before a roomful of students to your elderly colleague. Or to remind him or her for the thirty-second time which buttons to press to make a photocopy. And now the VCR in Room 409 refuses to work, and I don't know what the trouble is, but I have to put it right because no-one else can! And I don't even get to use it, either, because I don't give any lectures there this year! I'll probably just use magic, really.

**March 16, Sunday**

Spent all day in the Society's cosy fireplace room, helping compile the test questions for the new Runes textbook. We spent eight hours on it, but it was really worth the while. That was probably the single most difficult part of the work since it involved united effort on our part.

After I came home, I looked through my part of the textbook again, put it all together and found out there was quite a lot, really, much more than I had thought. So there's that one final topic to cover, and I'll be ready.

Funny, last year I used to do all my Society-related work from here, and this year, I keep going to London all the time. Is that the sign of my acquiring a more prominent position there or simply of my losing grip on things?

**March 17, Monday**

Poor old Tonks! She came round today, completely depressed. I ran into her in a corridor in the evening. And I'm really thick-headed because she actually had to explain to me why she was depressed, I hadn't known. She's deeply and desperately in love with Remus Lupin, and she came over because she'd heard there had been an attack where someone had been killed by Greyback, so she wanted to learn more from Dumbledore, to know whether Lupin was safe doing that underground mission of his. It wasn't him (it was much more horrible – a small boy died after Greyback's attack. If I ever get near that bastard I swear I shall try my best to kill him. And that is no metaphor.), but she was still depressed as anything, understandably. She doesn't even look her usual cheery self – she hasn't for a while, actually, although I didn't really see too much of her during the autumn and winter.

I hope I've helped her a bit, though. When I ran into her in the corridor and asked her what was wrong, she started telling me and just broke down and cried. I sat with her on a windowsill for a while, consoling her, and then she said that Remus possibly returned her feelings but didn't want to have anything to do with her because he considers himself to be too dangerous for her. (Understandably.) And she wants to marry him and have his children, but she's scared and he's scared, too, that they will be born werewolves, and of course who would want to inflict such horrific suffering onto a child before it can even understand it lives and breathes and has a personality. And that was where I could console her a little. She must have forgotten what I was – and well, it's not as if I advertise it much – and she was so relieved to find out that if they take certain precautions, their child can be a half-werewolf like me, and escape the painful transformations and the stigma of an outcast. (Moreover, I think I heard Sev. say that taking the Wolfsbane Potion might prevent lycanthropy from being passed on at all, although it was difficult to say in the absence of any practical data; and that would mean that their child would be completely normal, and not even have to be celibate, because there would be no prospect of being unable to prevent the passing on of the dormant disease, as I would, to their children in turn, to flourish in them openly, and inevitably.) I told her that their child having a stupid hairdo and not sleeping once a month might be the only price they'd have to pay, and she was really happy to hear that. I walked her to the gates, and then, suddenly, she looked up at me and said:

'Do you know, Roderick – I'd love my children to be like you.' Then she reached up, kissed me lightly on the lips and went.

I'm so calm writing about this now, I'm amazed at myself. When she did that, I had to stand there, holding onto the cast-iron whorls, for three full minutes before I could compose myself.

**March 18, Tuesday**

Those new bookcases have arrived unexpectedly. We're all in a state of panic because nobody really believed we were getting them after all, so no preparations were made, that is why the workwizards could not put them in place today – we needed time to clear our things out from the old ones. They've put them in a store-room, and the way I see it, we'll have to then put them in place on our own after we've cleared out. The tragic thing is – we're still waiting for the bloody floor to be done, and it does seem a bit stupid to get the new furniture in and load it with books, then remove it out of the way for the floor to be fixed. So at the present moment, part of our books and papers are in boxes and crates on the floor, part are still inside the cases, and generally, we don't have the use of either the old or the new bookcases. Bloody chaos.

**March 20, Thursday**

Got in touch with Rune Röksten. Unfortunately, he can't come over and give lectures to all of my students this year, but he is ready to give two. We've scheduled his visit for the end of the month, namely the 28th, with him staying here and giving another lecture on the 31st, which means that this year, the sixth-years and the fifth-years are the lucky ones. If the others can talk their teachers into letting them attend, they're welcome too, of course.

**March 21, Friday**

The whole Hogwarts staff spent the whole day removing the last remains of books from the old bookcases, getting them out of the staff room, then getting the new ones in and completed (they'd been left standing with no doors on on Tuesday, as it turned out), and loading them with the stuff again. What a bloody mess. Turned out we have so many things between us they hardly fit the cases, even though they are roomier than the old ones.

**March 24, Monday**

Completely insane weather for the second day running. Sunshine and heavy snow at the same time! I was nearly blinded by the sun on my way back from Hogsmeade, I nipped out there between the Runes classes and German, and then, fifteen minutes into the German class, I had to light torches because it had gone so dark. We didn't think the snow would be returning, really!

Saw Fergus Merrythought in the village. He was with his wife, Alexandra. I only had a little time though, I was already heading back to the castle for the class, so we only talked a little. He gives private lessons now, and since there are so many parents who've taken their kids out of Hogwarts, he's not at all unemployed. He looks quite happy, and Alexandra too. They are thinking of moving to Hogsmeade, a lot of people are actually, feeling strength in numbers and believing they'd be safer near the heavily guarded school, with the Aurors stationed there and all. I can understand that. Actually, there's quite a boom, and I'm sure it's good for business – Madam Rosmerta's full, and I've seen a few 'Rooms To Let' signs over the village.

I don't know if it's wise, though. Congregating in large numbers will make people vulnerable if things come to the worst. Also, with the whole wizardfolk gathered in very few local pockets, nobody will be left to help Muggles if need be, and Voldemort seems to have started attacking them now, and they won't even know what hit them.

**March 25, Tuesday**

The fourth-years are writing their test, whispering, whispering. Oh, let them whisper.

It's started snowing again, baaah. I look outside the window, then turn back to my notebook. A student looks outside the window, shakes her head, turns back to her parchment. Another student looks outside, then another, then the first one, then me, and we all start laughing.

I really wonder what they make of me, what they think of me. On the other hand, I'm sure I'm better off not knowing. (That's one more problem Sev. doesn't have to face: he knows exactly what students think about him!)

What would in change if I knew? Nothing. I'd just feel bad, and that would be all. It's not as if I want to know to make any amendments to the way I teach or behave, I'd stay the same. It's a completely irrational wish. Bolstered by insecurity, of course, because deep down inside I'm sure they dislike me and laugh at me behind my back. (Even though I've been told otherwise by the students themselves on a couple of occasions.) But what if they do? I certainly wouldn't change anything to appear more attractive to them, I have my teacher's pride!

Trouble is, I'm yellow-belliedly dependent on the students' respect or at least liking. And paranoidally scared of evoking neither and being ridiculed. Although why I should be in any way interested in the feelings I elicit remains unclear. Oh well. I suppose it's some sort of deep-seated neurotic insecurity, which it's slightly too late to do anything about.

Merlin, I really think I chose the wrong profession back then... On the other hand, when I did, I didn't think it would be my profession, I thought it would be a temporary position. Now though, six years have passed and it looks like I'm in it for real. And I can't really say I'm unhappy about it.

Oh, and re teachers, it's Ruthwell's birthday. I remembered in time this year, and sent him some flowers and a card.

**March 26, Wednesday**

Oh dear. Just escaped from Charity, who for some reason has become very fond of me and keeps catching up with me and telling me things, and this time, after I'd unwarily let slip I used to be short-sighted as a kid, she regaled me with a full and detailed account of the time when she was in hospital having her eyes and everything else checked. I had to feign the need to go into Hogsmeade before dinner to escape her! She's very nice, but a bit strange. She has very weird views on the difference between girls and boys, for instance, and from her point of view, it seems, all boys are slightly stupid and therefore worthy of amused condescension. She means the students, of course, but it still feels a bit uncomfortable listening to her and being a boy myself. But I'm beginning to learn to let the waves of her eloquence just wash over me without gaining entrance into my brain.

**March 27, Thursday**

Woke up at six today in horror after dreaming that I'd overslept and it was already half past eleven and couldn't get myself to sleep again after that.

Suddenly, one more bookcase arrived to the staff room, and instead of going to my room and catching up on my sleep, I helped unload one of the old ones still remaining, moving it out of the way to another room and then reloading the new one. It wasn't hard work, really, just time-consuming, but the funny thing is that, in the evening, when I had to kneel down to get a book from the bottom shelf, I realised my legs were aching something dreadful!

**March 28, Friday**

Rune's lecture was a great success, predictably. I really can't thank him enough.

**March 29, Saturday**

Well, it had to happen at some point, I imagine. The Hogsmeade library has run out of new Muggle books for me. There isn't a single book in that section I haven't read. All right, after all this is not the Middle Ages! I'll go to that village I went to for the Christmas service and try to join theirs.

Later: Done it! Since it's a small village, they never asked me for any identification, just asked me where I worked, so I truthfully said I was a schoolteacher from a – less truthfully – small private school some fifteen miles away, took a book (a detective story, yes) and rode away on a bicycle, which I returned to its original state of a bent nail in a fence post when I was well out of sight. Good job I still remember how to ride a bicycle! I haven't actually ridden one since I was ten.

By the way, this new book is pretty good. It's by a writer called Reginald Hill, and features Superintendent Dalziel and Sergeant Pascoe. It's part of a series, of course, so if I like this one, I'll read more about them.

**March 30, Sunday**

Just realised that Sevvie seems to be easier about me, about my being around that is. He seems to've got used to me hanging physically around. I'd actually never spent so much time in his immediate proximity before, school excepted. I used to be there for him but away – away in London, away in Durmstrang. He didn't seem quite to know what to do when I appeared actually near him last year. I suppose this is the reason for this mildness of his towards me. It's not actually mildness, it's just the unaccustomed absence of acute-embarrassment-caused aggression. He's simply got used to me. Ha ha ha. He got used to me, and it only took him twenty years. Oh all right, fifteen if we only count the Lamentorship.

No, but look, this is brilliant. I just hope I'm not deceiving myself.

The one thing that doesn't quite tally is this feeling that he's deeply worried and anxious. There's some sort of foreboding I feel on his behalf. Oh well, there's a war on, right? There's a war on out there. There's a war on. Anyone would be anxious and worried.

I do not want to think that he knows he's about to die.

**March 31, Monday**

Rune gave his second lecture today. Afterwards I took him out to the Three Broomsticks, like last year. Dumbledore couldn't join us this time, so the Hogwarts powers that be were represented by Prof. McGonagall. We had a great time there. However, I did for some reason develop a splitting headache during the meal, so I'm not quite as happy and content as I would like to feel. I think I'll go to bed now, maybe it clears.


	17. April and May Again

**April 1, Tuesday**

Still working on that final topic of mine for the textbook. It's so boring I can hardly force myself to do it. However, the draft is now ready, I'll just have to lick it into shape now.

Evening: April 1 passed, and I didn't even notice! That's a good sign, that. On the other hand, it might be that I'm so old now nobody plays pranks on me...

**April 2, Wednesday**

The builders are back and they've closed off portions of the main staircase now! We have to use all the narrow back stairs until the repairs are through. What the bloody hell is that supposed to achieve? Why now? Why not wait for the summer? If they think the war will break out by the summer, why do it at all? I'm mystified.

**April 3, Thursday**

Quite an experience! I've just got back to the staff room after having locked myself and my third-years in in the classroom! Mine was undergoing some minor repairs, so I was given another one, and the bloody enchanted lock was broken; but since there was a draught, I decided to close the door anyway, sticking a bit of paper in so that the door wouldn't close completely as it was impossible to open the lock from the inside – the handle had been broken clean off and of course since it had been an enchantment that had gone wrong, no locking/opening spells would work either. The paper slipped, though, and the door got locked. Oh, all right, thought I, I'll just contact Sev. and ask him to walk up here and open the door from the outside for us when we're through. The lesson was over, and I wrote to him via the two-way notebook, he came AND COULD NOT OPEN THE DOOR BECAUSE THE BLOODY handle WAS BROKEN ON THE BLOODY OUTSIDE AS WELL!!! The students laughed hysterically. Sev. went to fetch Mr Filch, but I thought it would take a long time and started trying to turn the broken handle with my knife from the inside. The blade was too wide though, so I asked the girls if I could borrow an emery board off one of them, Saskia Kerringwood gave me hers, and I finally opened the door with it – but broke it in the process! Felt like a complete idiot, of course. Promised I'd buy her a new one (repairing the old one wouldn't work, it had a Veela hair inside or something that snapped and made it useless). Am off to Hogsmeade now, having grilled my female colleagues about where one buys emery boards.

Later: Whew. Got it! Identical, just a different colour. Hope she's got nothing against green. Will hand it over to her tomorrow, because waiting a week before our next class is definitely not comme il faut.

**April 4, Friday**

Now they've closed off a corridor so that I have to cross the courtyard every time I go to my new classroom from the Great Hall or the staff room. When will this end?..

Saskia Kerringwood seemed to be very surprised when I caught her after lunch and gave her the new emery board. I don't think she was expecting I'd really do as I had said, I think she must have thought I had said it merely out of politeness, because there was an expression of very frank amazement on her face as I handed the thing over. Maybe it's not the sort of thing a teacher is supposed to do. Well, sod that, I can't go about breaking people's things and just leaving it at that, can I!

**April 5, Saturday**

I suddenly noticed that the Forbidden Forest has gone quite green, I've been so preoccupied I hardly noticed the spring come!

**April 6, Sunday**

Just realised I've taken to filing my nails on the broken bits of SK's emery board while reading or checking essays. Fidgeting takes strange forms...

**April 7, Monday**

Start of Easter holiday! I'll have to get in touch with the OWL panel again. Good job I've done it before, I'm much calmer about OWLs this year than I was last year.

**April 9, Wednesday**

Aunt Isolde's birthday. Sent her some flowers.

**April 13, Sunday**

Full moon

Nothing much else, really.

**April 15, Tuesday**

Prof. Vector's birthday, which we celebrated in the staff room. Afterwards I went for a walk among Prof. Sprout's rhododendrons in full bloom. The trees are so pretty in their early yellow-green leaves, and the flowers are breathtakingly beautiful. I really like this time of year best, more even than summer, I think. April and October, these are the months I like best of all.

**April 22, Tuesday**

Dear diary, I'm so sorry. April seems to be a month most unfortunate for a teacher's diary-keeping, because one gets so tired and bored and just waiting for the summer. Anyway nothing much actually happened that would be worth recording. Usual Easter holiday stuff. There seem to be fewer and fewer hours in each day as special projects and SpAWN projects pile up.

Evening: One good thing worth recording! Katie Bell returned to Gryffindor House from St Mungo's, she's all right, quite cured from the dreadful curse.

**April 24, Thursday**

Set a written assignment to my third-years, they're scribbling studiously, translating. Zoe Worming seems to be the second edition of Hermione Granger. Maybe even a new and improved edition! She's done the whole text, she did it about ten minutes ago actually, but is still checking and double-checking.

**April 25, Friday**

With the lovely weather and the new-born leaves in the trees, crossing the courtyard has become much more pleasant. You can see the trees and shrubs through the cloister arches, and the air is warm and sweet. The students seem to spend as much of their time as they can outside, having fun together, laughing. It's easy to forget that there are all kinds of horrors happening outside this secluded world.

**April 26, Saturday**

With that conference we're preparing at the Society, I spend more and more time in London. Which I'm happy about, really, because London is also very beautiful in April. I prefer to get around by Muggle transport there, because it's just so amusing when you mingle with the Holborn crowd, and walk purposefully, weaving your way through the crowd, looking like an ordinary Londoner; then, with a surreptitious glance around, you dive into a seemingly empty seemingly blind alley between two tall buildings; and if a Muggle cares to follow me with their eyes they'll see me disappear as I walk though what they see as a stretch of blank featureless wall and what I see for what it is, the magnificent Baroque entrance to the wide paved courtyard of the High Academy of Magical Art, with the statue of Merlin in the centre of the quad visible through the arch. But of course they wouldn't follow me with their eyes, the place being magically protected. They may see me turning into the alley but they forget it in the same instant and pass blithely on unperturbed by having witnessed anything unusual. It's great fun being a wizard, actually.

**April 29, Tuesday**

Yesterday was Mother's birthday. For some reason, after I Apparated to the Cottage and back, I felt heart-wrenchingly depressed as I hadn't felt for maybe fifteen or twenty years, I felt so lonely and small and confused and just longed so much to be home with my Mum and Dad that I flopped down on the bed and cried and cried and cried, and couldn't stop. Everything seemed so meaningless that I just lay there curled up into a ball and let the room grow dark and didn't even go down for dinner, and it took me quite an effort and a lot of self-cajoling to get up and at least get undressed for the night.

I saw both the Headmaster and Sev. look very attentively at me during breakfast, they were clearly wondering where I had been yesterday, and judging by the momentary, slight flurry of memories in my head, one of them or both had used Legilimency; and then, as we were rising from the table, I was shocked to feel a light reassuring touch of a hand upon my upper arm and to find it was Severus's hand. That's about the third time in the entire time I've known him that he's touched me of his own accord and non-aggressively.

**April 30, Wednesday**

Why am I so tired? I've just come up here after spending two and a half hours in the staff room doing NOTHING, just sitting about unable to move out of my chair. Now just keep wanting to drop off.

Evening: I've just realised! It's the fifteenth anniversary of my raven form. Will have a quiet drink on my own to celebrate.

And to think that at this very moment, bonfires are lit on the mounds in Gamla Uppsala, and nervous neophytes, sporting their spanking new personal amulets, are gathering round to collect their diplomas and finally show to themselves and others what animal form they acquire as they do that well-trained somersault.

Ultimately, the new warlocks' fur, feathers or scales are actually the equivalent of the cap and gown in more academic fashion. The final proof of successful education.

**May 1, Thursday**

Yess! May! The end of the term now clearly visible on the horizon.

**May 3, Saturday**

What a thunderstorm we're having! It's night, 3:14 to be precise. I've never seen anything like it! There are so many lightning-bolts and sheet lightnings following one another closely that I can see the landscape below quite clearly in this blueish or greyish light. And the rain is like a sheet of water! Honestly, I've never seen anything like this in my life. Feeling wildly excited. I'll just sit here and watch it for a while.

**May 4, Sunday**

Just back from a walk over the dark grounds. It's been raining again, and the smell in the air can only be described as sweet. It's damp and warm and a glory to breathe. And the lights in the castle windows look so bright and very beautiful.

**May 6, Tuesday**

Harry Potter's excelled himself. S has just put him in detention for attacking Draco Malfoy with the Sectumsempra curse! When I asked Sev. where did he think the boy had learnt Sev.'s own spell, he said he was almost certain that Potter had his old Potions textbook he had kept in a cupboard in a Potions classroom and had completely forgotten about. Slughorn must have given it out to Potter in September, since he took students with lower marks than Sev. would have done and some of those who found out they could carry on with Potions didn't have the textbooks on them, not expecting to have any opportunity to use them. Presumably Slughorn gave them the old ones from the cupboard. Sev. looked a bit troubled, actually, trying to remember what else he had written there, and whether Potter could actually figure out it was his book in the first place. I don't think there's a way. It was marked, Sev. says, as belonging to the Half-Blood Prince, and he never used the nickname in front of others, he didn't even allow me to use it, not even as a joke. I found out about it accidentally, in the first place, when I borrowed a book off him once.

**May 7, Wednesday**

Now Leonard Squires has woken up! Sent me a complete project, and it's incredibly well-done, actually, almost no editing required on my part. Brilliant. I just hope the other two, Oliver and Veronica, whose works I haven't seen yet, will turn out something as great. Although I doubt it somehow.

**May 9, Friday**

Full moon

I'm so tired I think I'll go to bed. Oh, I don't want to... but I need some sleep, I won't manage to stay awake the whole night. Oh well... I will muster up my courage and face my nightmare. After all, I haven't had it since last year's episode with the removal of my brand.

**May 11, Sunday**

Spending the weekend reading special projects and the SpAWN works. Barely finding time to eat with all of this.

**May 13, Tuesday**

Aunt Vi's birthday tomorrow, sent her a card.

**May 14, Wednesday**

I seem to be losing my mind. Just sat down to check the third-years' tests and realised I couldn't do it, just stared at them helplessly, feeling so tired the very thought of going through them made my eyes prickle with tears of intense self-pity. That will not do.

Put them away, decided I'd attend to them later on in the evening. I've got those SpAWNs to cover as well, both mine and the ones I'm revising. Still quite a few to go, I no longer remember how many.

Later: Done one.

I'm so tired.

And those two stupid persons Oliver Pullston and Veronica Collier haven't sent me a scrap of their work yet, and we're due for the pre-defence on Friday. Which means, most probably, that I'll have to spend the whole night tomorrow reading them when they've sent them in at the last minute, getting even more tired.

My whole room's scattered over with papers, parchments, folders, but I have no energy to clean up.

**May 16, Friday**

Whew. We're through. Oliver and Veronica got a lot of criticism and I hope it'll shake them into life. They've only got about two weeks to complete their projects.

**May 17, Saturday**

Oh my God. It's 3:58 AM, actually it's the 18th already. I've just woken up drenched in cold sweat, woken up from a nightmare. Not my usual one, either. I'll write this down to calm myself down; also, maybe I'll understand what it's about.

It started with me and Sev. sitting on the sofa in my London flat. We're just sitting there and talking, and then suddenly we're surrounded by people in black cloaks and masks; and one of them comes forward and I feel this freezing, gut-wrenching horror just looking at him: he's very pale, and hairless, and his eyes are red with vertical slits like a snake's, and I can just feel the aura of unspeakable cruelty about him, and I know it's Lord Voldemort, although I've never seen him. And suddenly we're not in my flat any more; we're standing in the hall of what looks like a large manor house, Severus is by my side and the rest of them are standing silently around in a semicircle. Then Voldemort raises his wand, pointing it at us; and I know that we must fight, although I also know it's pointless. I draw my own wand (for some reason) and retreat a step, expecting Sev. to cover my back; and then I feel horrifying, blinding pain. I turn round and see him, and he's holding a long, bloodied knife, and as I stare at him incredulously, he stabs me again, right in my heart, and catches me as I fall, and I look into his eyes and they are completely unreadable, expressionless... and I can't breathe, and he lets go of me and I fall down onto the floor and I woke up here, thank Heaven.

I'm actually sick and tired of being murdered by Snape. First the Boggart, now this. It's boring.

I don't want to analyse this now. Cos truth to tell, I'm very scared.

Sod that, sod all that, it never happened, forget about it and go back to bed.

**May 18, Sunday**

Told Sev. He was surprised and a bit worried, he said it's incredible that I should see the Dark Lord in my dream exactly as he is, and he apparently is just like I saw him. S says it must be the influence of his emotions (and it's about the first time he's actually said in so many words that there is a connection between us. Most of the time he ignores it, pretends it doesn't exist.).

What troubles me most though, is that I got a feeling he was holding something back. Well, he's always holding something back, but this time it looked like he wanted to tell me something, was just on the verge of saying it and then decided against it. I don't like that at all.

**May 19, Monday**

Veronica sent me about twenty pages of her work. Brilliant. I'm afraid this girl will have to defend her thesis in September. It's not humanly possible to make this into a presentable project in the two remaining weeks before the thing has to be handed over to the reviewer. I'm actually quite angry with them both (Veronica and Ollie) although I like them. Incredible carelessness. But I've done all I could: I asked them, cajoled them, even threatened them, I mean what else could I have done? Travelled to their respective homes and stood over them while they worked? They are grown-up people, after all!

**May 20, Tuesday**

The last weeks of teaching seem to be the most difficult, as usual. You just want to let them all go, for Merlin's sake!..

**May 22, Thursday**

Grand day tomorrow. Spent all evening resting and reading, disengaging my thoughts from everything. There's a strong chance I'll have to be on one of the panels tomorrow so I'll need all my courage and I definitely don't need it diminished by thinking about it.

**May 23, Friday**

Whew! We've done it! And it was quite good, actually, even though I was forced forward to speak. I got permission for the more studious and clever of my third-years to attend the panel I was on, it was during my lesson-time (brought them over to the Society by the tried and tested Portkey: the rest stayed behind and did a written translation), although that was partially why I hated the idea of speaking in front of everyone: I didn't really want them to know that I had been involved in the alternative translation of the Einhar Smiðjuleir stories, it's sort of... frivolous, I don't know, not a serious enough thing for a teacher to do, to be interested in them to the degree of helping with an alternative translation; and moreover, they're nearly all completely crazy about the series, and that made things doubly frivolous! However, there was no doing anything about it when it became clear that I was the only one present who could take the floor together with Maya Lougherty, so I bravely stood up when I was introduced as a translator of ES. I kept my head down deliberately as I walked up to the dais, trying to hide behind my hair, but I could practically sense Zoe, Keira, Alice and Saskia go all giggly in the corner. While we were discussing ES and the translations, I shot them covert glances and they looked very happy and whispered together and shot me joyful covert glances in their turn. After we were finished (and it was a very nice, fruitful discussion), they surrounded me and started asking questions before leaving for Hogwarts again. I think I'm a bit of a hero with them now, at least that's what it looked like.

Then, when things were over, I sat about at the Society for a while chatting, then walked to Diagon Alley for a celebratory drink alone and then Apparated to Hogsmeade. Am very content and happy. I'll just write the press release Ruthwell asked me for, post it and then just forget about everything and relax. I think I can afford one evening of quiet idleness, even with all those special projects piling up.

**May 24, Saturday**

Weird. After the pre-defences and the conference, it feels like the term should be over, all the grand things are done. However, there's still quite some time to go.

Bloody Veronica will definitely have to defend her project in September if she carries on working, or rather NOT working at her present pace. I'm very angry at her, because I actually trusted her, and I did talk to her before Christmas when it was becoming apparent that she was falling behind the rest of them, and she assured me she'd work very hard to catch up. I like her, that's the trouble, and I know she's capable of good work. So I'm angry because I was expecting better things from her, and I was expecting her to overcome her laziness and carelessness dealing with something as important as this. On my part, I've done everything I could, though. I think. Although I don't sound convincing to myself as I say it. That's, I suppose, another reason for my anger: I'm feeling guilty and inadequate as her supervisor.

**May 25, Sunday**

I'm sick of Quidditch. There's this big match tomorrow, the Something or Other Cup (UEQA Champions League??? Europe Cup??? I'll never learn the difference...), with Chelsea Choppers playing against Manchester Mallets, and it's everywhere!

**May 26, Monday**

Manchester won. Why should I care?!

**May 28, Wednesday**

Marking the final tests I've been setting to my third-years – not bad. Miles Elgar's is probably the best. Actually, his translations are a pleasure to read. I just wish he were a little less arrogant and more willing to learn.

Later: Oh dear, not bad, eh, Professor Heald? I'm failing half the year again! Although I'm very pleased with some of them, obviously with Zoe and Keira, and with Alice, too. This last work was very good, for her. I think she might have made some sort of quantum leap. Hope she keeps it up.

**May 29, Thursday**

Rrrrrright. A student got me enraged. Really enraged. For the first time in my career. And guess who that student was. Yes, of course: Elgar! In all my years as a teacher I've never had a student question the point of the holiday work I give, the point and the form of it. Who the fuck does he think he is? I carried on, ignoring him – but now I wish I hadn't. I wish I'd just stood up and left, saying something like 'Presumably Miles knows how to teach you better than I do, so let him do it instead.' I didn't, and now I'm sorry about it. I shouldn't have let it pass with just a severe remark. Little arrogant bastard. And no, I'm not being an old fart. After all, I could easily stomach his derision and disdain (I mean I don't care what he thinks about me), but I cannot and will not tolerate open, unabashed rudeness. And if he thinks he's so much cleverer than them, and cleverer than me, too, then what's the point of coming to my classes? Next time I see him I'll tell him that his attempts to look grown-up and cool only result in his looking like a bored, spoilt toddler. If that's the impression he likes to give, then he can carry on to his heart's content, and I shall treat him accordingly, that is, ignore him. If he wants to engage in a discussion then let him learn how it's done in civilised society first; then I'll be ready to listen to anything he might have to say on the subject.

Too many underlined words there. Calm down, mate.

**May 31, Saturday**

The defence of the SpAWN projects is in eight days' time. However, I have not seen a single scrap of work from Veronica apart from her preliminary sketches. I suppose it's time to stop hoping it'll turn out all right.

Later: Ah. She's sent in an almost complete project. Still a huge amount of editing and reviewing work to be done, but we seem to be out of the hopeless stage at least.


	18. June Again

**June 1, Sunday**

My whole room is a mess. So is my brain, for that matter.

Later: Cleaned up a bit. The room, that is. Not the brain.

Still later: Spent all evening talking over the Floo with Veronica re her project, which she brought me the final version of at about six. I hate to think what that three-hour long on and off conversation cost her! Still, serves her right for being so late and basically keeping me on edge for weeks quite unnecessarily. Her work's turning out OK really. I just hope the reviewers don't fail it... they won't like receiving it a mere week before the defence, I can feel it in my bones!

Night: Merlin, it's three o'clock at night and I'm nowhere near going to bed, what with Veronica and all the rest of them. There are eleven – ELEVEN – reviews to be written, and Tara insists on getting it from me tomorrow instead of on Wednesday... but I'll try to catch a couple of hours of sleep after all.

**June 2, Monday**

Last week of school begins!

Had my last German lesson. They've made good progress, actually. I think that I'll talk to Dumbledore over the summer and suggest we turn it into a regular feature. It's a pity I can't physically take more than one group, because people kept coming up to me and asking whether there was a way for beginners to join the class, and I had to disappoint them. Maybe it's time a foreign language is introduced as a regular lesson, with a regular teacher, rather than my amateurish efforts?

**June 3, Tuesday**

Done the fourth-years! They've handed in good works, actually. I've just checked the papers, and they're coming in now, one by one, gingerly, and I tell them the marks they got. They all got Es and even Os. And it's really funny when a clever kid who's never had any problems approaches me warily, obviously scared to death that they've got a bad mark when in fact they have absolutely nothing to worry about; and you tell them they've got an E or an O, and they breathe out in relief and beam and say, 'Thank you sir!!' as if they were fully expecting me to fail them.

**June 4, Wednesday**

Full moon

Just the thing before an exam.

**June 5, Thursday**

Exam with third-years. Was definitely not feeling up to it after the sleepless night, but it went surprisingly smoothly, and quickly too. Their answers were quite presentable. I wasn't very severe, either. Anyway, I'm quite happy now.

**June 6, Friday**

Right, and here go the fifth-years. Gave them a last warning and tried to inspire them before the OWL. All that remains is to wait.

Now, let's see. I've done the fifth-years, done the fourth-years. Done the sixth-years. Done the third-years. Hey, I'm FREEEE!!!

Well, not exactly free, of course, but free from school. I've still got loads to do at the Society. That bloody textbook of ours isn't ready yet. And I still haven't finished that last chapter! You'd think I'd have done it by no but I really didn't have enough time! Will sit down and do it tonight. And there's the paperwork to be done before it can be published, too, and of course it's to be done by yours truly. You know, being considered reliable and responsible actually has its drawbacks!

**June 7, Saturday**

London. Whew. We've done it! The SpAWN defences took place today. I thought there would be a great big entry about it, but it all went smoothly, it was brilliant and enjoyable and peaceful; save one negative review I got – and for whom! For Leonard Squires and his dictionary!!! It was made by a reviewer he found himself, and it was a lady called Helena Jones, from the neighbouring Dept of Magical Language Theory; and as usual with them, our works are not Magically Theoretical enough for them. The fact that we are much more concerned with actual language practice and translation doesn't convince them. Anyway it didn't matter, because all the criticism was just soundly ignored by the committee, and I even said something in Leonard's defence and whatever they think, he still got a recommendation for continuing to the MaD stage and everyone who understands anything about dictionaries agreed his work was brilliant, so sod them.

No, I'm not at all angry. I'm actually very calm and very happy. And proud. Yes. They all got excellent marks, even Veronica and Oliver, would you believe it! And tomorrow they are getting their diplomas.

No point Flooing back and forth, I'll spend the night here.

**June 8, Sunday**

Hogwarts. Just got back from the diploma-awarding ceremony. My SpAWNs looked so proud in their brand-new gowns and caps. They took their diplomas and listened to the speeches, then took loads of photos of each other and me, told me lots of nice things, hugged each other and shone with happiness... Then they were off to a celebratory al fresco picnic in Cornwall, and I was left there, feeling old.

I'm strangely calm but sad. Emotionally shagged out, I suppose. Yes, that's it. Calm, even sort of serene, but sad at the same time. Sorry to lose them. Oh well. I hope they'll keep in touch somehow. Although I will most probably never see some of them again.

I'm feeling slightly out of place now that I'm back at school because obviously, for me, there's been an ending to something, and here at school everything goes on as if nothing has happened. Well, nothing has, either.

**June 9, Monday**

OWLs begin today. Mine is later on in the week. I'm not feeling remotely as nervous as I did last year. However, that's probably a sign not so much of my growing professional maturity, as of the fact that I was much more concerned about the success of my present sixth-years than that of the present fifth-years. They were, and are, still 'my group' when I think or talk about them. Favouritism, blatant favouritism.

Oh and by the way, I've finished the sodding chapter. Yess. But the prospect of sitting down and reviewing the whole thing over again daunts me, so I'm procrastinating again.

**June 10, Tuesday**

I feel really weird. Almost nothing to do before the exams start, so I just walked and flew around the grounds most of the day. Spent some time with Sev., too. I'm worried more and more about him. He's sort of... sort of absent, I've never seen him like this.

**June 11, Wednesday**

All is lost. All is lost.

Ragnarök.


End file.
